Chapter 1

Her tongue snakes its way into his mouth as her hands feel up the inside of his abs, prodding
around for his kidneys. She's doing it as discretely as she possibly can. What happens between a
woman and her one-night-only makeout partner's urinary system is her business and her business
alone.

His body, her choice is what she tells herself.

And yes, she understands that she's doing this without his consent. But that doesn't make it
wrong, does it now? Doesn't make it right either but, then again, have been worse things done in
the name of consent and even worse things done without it.

He seems to be enjoying it anyway. Her lips wrapped around his. Her hands beneath his shirt.
Her crotch hovering above his. Her butt resting on his knees. All within the view of two hundred
drunk teenagers gyrating and spazzing out their bodies, waving glowing sticks in the air to a
blasting mush of beats and drops.

But they don't care. They're too busy rubbing themselves against each other and gulping down
neon drinks to notice.

Somewhere behind them, a young woman vomits. Her friends laugh at her and point fingers. But
Jin doesn't care. Neither does Paul. What matters to them is the now. As far as he is concerned,
there is only her. As far as she is concerned, there is only the matter of his kidneys.

She feel his ureters between her forefingers and thumbs. They're pulsing and rumbling like water
hoses left in the grass with the tap on. This close to bursting.

Not now. She still needs you Paul.

He sticks his tongue in between her lips but doesn't go any further.

"Can I enter?" it asks.

She replies by sticking her tongue over his and pushing it as far as she can into his mouth.

"Yes. Oh God, Yes!" it seems to say.

He wraps his around hers. She pushes it to the roof of his mouth. He pushes back down. It's a
wrestle for dominance. A game of tug and push. Only this time, the both of them are winners.

Meanwhile, she's slowly disconnecting his renal arteries, ureters, and connecting tissue. Bile and
mucus are collecting around her fingers. Nothing she's not already used to.
And then, a flash of regret. A sprinkle of sadness. Glimpses of a very regrettable trip to the
movies. Walking into this club. A blink of light and the smell of fried chicken.

By now, he should start to feel a strange tugging in the lower chambers of his heart followed by a
slightly tickling sensation in his intestines, like a million ants running around his digestive tract
and poking it with tiny forks and spoons. It's weird that he should feel anything at all, kidney's
don't have nerves let alone pain receptors, as do most internal organs.

It also strikes Jin that she should've cut her fingernails earlier. Oh well it's far too late for that,
she thinks.

Thankfully, Paul's too busy taking her tongue out to dinner to notice anyway. But her tongue
doesn't want dinner, it tells him. Taking out her leather whips and chains right at the dining table,
she pushes his tongue back into his mouth and it folds back, nearly touching his uvula. He
chokes a little. She pulls out plants a kiss on his forehead.

Not bad for a first date, Jin tells myself as she stumbles away through the crowd, urea-soaked
kidneys in her hands, leaving a trail of foul-smelling yellow liquid is left in her wake. After a few
seconds, it gets covered by the limp body of some guy with a rippingly muscular physique and a
silk-wrapped ass that just won't quit. When he eventually wakes up the next morning, he'll be
quite disconcerted to find that his favorite pair of see-through clubbing knickers have been
ruined forever.

Jin runs out of the club, past the line of shivering youngsters dressed in thin strips of cloth and
overpriced minimalist graphic tees. A few of them notice what she's carrying and stare for a
moment before shaking their heads and going back to whatever conversation they were already
having about the new meatball stand down on 22nd Street.

Her car is the rusted blue sedan with the John 3:16 bumper sticker and the used car price tag still
stuck to the top left corner of the windshield which gets more and more garish the closer she gets
to it. Had she arrived earlier she should could have gotten a space nearer to the entrance but no…
she just had to drop by the pretzel shop.

It takes her seven minutes to arrive at her car, the price tag now in full view. Her father had
bought it for her when her sister got engaged. Jin always thought of it as an act of pity or
sympathy. A pat on the back and gentle hug with the words "You do know we still love you, Jin."
stenciled on their faces. It wasn't like it wasn't true. They did love her. Maybe not as much as her
sister. Maybe just as much. Jin didn't know. She never really asked.

She looked at the price tag. Six thousand, eight hundred, ninety-nine dollars, and ninety-nine
cents colored red against a triangular yellow sticker. A googly-eyed car tire with arms and legs
gives a thumbs up beside the words "BEST DEAL!". She attempts to place the kidneys on the
roof of the car. The left one slips out of her hand and plops onto the asphalt floor, splattering
what seemed to be a mixture of blood and urine on the ground and on her shoes. She groans and
bends down to pick it up. Another "plop" is heard. Two kidneys on the floor now. Shit.

Somewhere in the club, Paul searches amongst the throbbing silhouetted figures around for her.
The lights flicker purple, then green, then red, then blue, then back to red. His eyes are watering.
That small tickle he felt earlier in his abdomen returns, only this time the ants are hammering
him with tiny ant-sized hammers.

"Five second rule." she mutters and relocates them to the roof of her car, but not before dusting
them in her palms and giving them a few strong blows for good measure. Wasn't like she was
going to give them back anyway.

Jin reaches a mucus-soaked hand into her pocket where she usually keeps her keys. She sighs
heavily. they're not there. She must have left them in her handbag at the club, she thinks, and
begins her sprint back. Pools of sweat form in her armpits and beneath her breasts despite the
cool of night.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

To think that she was actually caught up in the very moment she engineered as a distraction.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

One night flings aren't her thing, she remind herself. Neither are half-asian looking chaps with
sharp cheekbones and calves sculpted by the angels themselves. Not anymore.

She runs back past the entrance. The same people are still lined up, still talking about that new
meatball place. Apparently for a dollar and fifty you can get the meatballs stuffed with
mushrooms or a four-cheese blend. For an extra two, you could get two toasted halves of bread
spread with a flavoured butter of your choosing. Something to consider.

Her head bumps against a well-formed barrel of a chest. It's Paul again. Her emerald-colored
handbag is being oh so carefully gripped in between his toned fingers. So gentle... So caring…
But so… strong.

"You left this behind Jin."

He puts in her open, dripping hands and begins to turn away.

No, Jin. You have to do something. Don't miss this chance. GET OFF YOUR ASS AND DO IT!

"Wait a moment…"
He stops.

"Can I have your number?"

He smiles.

"Sure." he says.

"Okay."

"Swell."

"Yeah."

"Well, I think I have to go to the bathroom. Not feeling so good. See you around?"

"Okay…" the words creak out of her mouth like a tightening pipe screw.

He turns his chest around and reveals a pair of mountainous shoulders. Futher south, a pair of
taut cheeks stretch the seams of his jeans with their perfect shape.

Meanwhile, two small puddles of urine and mucus gather beside her shoes. A pungent, chemical-
esque smell leaks out of her bag. A pudgy man, around six and a half feet tall, taps her on her
shoulder.

"Um ma'am. You're making a mess."

Jin springs back, her eyes wide open. She shakes her head.

"Oh… yeah…"

And with that over, she runs back to her car.

Maybe I'll call him on Sunday after church, she thinks to herself. Let's see if he's game for
meatballs.
Chapter 2

It’s a 30 minute drive back to Leng Street. Jin doesn’t mind the drive. It’s relaxing. Keeps her
mindful. Keeps her present. She takes the time to meditate on her future. What she’s going to do
next. What she wants in life.
She also knows that the drive won’t do her any good though. If she's as familiar with herself as
she thinks she is, no amount of thinking will actually lead her to make a decision or give her any
purpose. It’ll just leave her feeling slightly more satisfied with her life, giving her the illusion
that she’s actually going somewhere.
But hey, if it makes her feel good... what’s the harm?
Her car reaches the turning that leads into Yestown. It’s the one underneath the 14 by 48 feet
billboard advertising the Indian restaurant that opened on Saint Street half a year ago. When it
opened, most of the townsfolk, including Jin, wagered that it would go out of business in a
month. Sure enough, its tables were mostly empty for the first few weeks.
Then something changed. They hired a local second-generation Nepalese teen named Johnson to
wait on the tables. The very next day, the restaurant was filled with customers, both Asian and
otherwise. Now isn’t that an interesting story, Jin thinks.
She arrives at her house on Leng street. It's the one with the red mailbox and the rusty wooden
swing on the veranda. The swing came with the house, her parents used to tell her. They had
bought it as newlyweds from an elderly couple who were moving to an old folk’s home
somewhere down south. A few days after her parents had settled in, they received word that the
couple had died in a car crash involving two trucks and a faulty brake line.
Jin remembers when she first heard that story.
“So that’s it then?” she asked her mother.
Her mother simply smiled and nodded.
Jin drives the car into the driveway beside the garage. Further down in the backyard is the
unused shed stocked with tools her father had bought but never used. Jin can’t remember when it
was last opened.
She gets out her sedan and enters the house by the garage side door. When she turns on the lights,
she’s greeted by the impeccable metallic sheen of her sister’s maroon 1974 Chrysler Imperial
LeBaron. Jin only knows its year and model because her sister refuses to shut up about it...
initially at least.
Of course, her dad let her sister park in the garage despite the fact she doesn’t live here. In a
different life, Jin would be offended by this.
“Dad, why can’t I park in the garage?!” she would ask, “Aren’t I your little princess? It’s not safe
outside you know? Don’t you love me?! Ruby always gets to park in the garage!”
But Jin doesn’t care. She’s just glad her dad bought her a car anyway without any extra
persuasion. Sure, it’s not as nice as the 1974 Chrysler Imperial LeBaron they bought for her
sister... but hey, it’s still a car. And a car means freedom.
Jin enters the kitchen. It’s a recently renovated 160 square feet room complete with insulated
wood paneling and a state of the art Pinetech Smart Oven. Her family is seated around an 8.5 by
3 feet mahogany dining table with ebony trimmings. The whole setup’s an unofficial dowry from
Liam Chang of Chang’s Roast Pork. Jin thinks he’s a great guy... kind, understanding, humble...
too good for her sister really. But Jin doesn’t want to meddle. She’s betting that the whole
“arrangement” will be off in 2 years.
“Hello dear! Want some whiskey?” says her father, holding up a bottle of 6 year single malt from
Pakistan.
“Come and join us!” says her mother, cutting a square off a brownie cake.
“Jin, Long time no see!” says Liam... righteous, pure Liam... “How you doing?”
And then there’s Ruby, cradling her daughter. She barely even makes eye contact. Exactly where
Jin wants her to be. Comfortably distant.
Jin smiles to her parents and waves to Liam.
“Hey Mom. Hey Dad. No thanks, I’m pretty tired.” she says as if by routine. Deep inside, she
tells herself she loves them. She really does. They’re her parents after all.
“Hey Liam! I’m doing pretty good...” She says. It’s a lie. “How’re you?”
He rotates in his chair to look at her. The Alpha/Logos bible study group jacket is draped around
his shoulders. It’s made of cheap corduroy colored a vomit-esque green. Somehow, he manages
to make it look not too terrible.
“Just got back from bible study.” he says as he thumbs his jacket. He’s wearing his signature
Liam Chang look. The sort of look that makes you feel comfortable. Not judged. Accepted...
“You should join us someday.”
“Yeah... maybe someday...” Jin says as she slips up the staircase while retaining eye contact. Just
as she disappears to the second floor she shouts her goodnights. Everyone returns the courtesy,
except Ruby.
Ruby... Dear old Ruby...
"Ruby can go fuck herself." Jin mutters beneath her breath before quickly asking God for
forgiveness.

Chapter 3
The Amaeysi is not a creature of the night. It does not sneak around dark alleyways and hide in
bushes waiting to pounce. Neither does it have a beast-like figure or grotesque eyes that blaze
with hellfire. The Amaeysi is not a monster, as it will object if you call it that to its face. It is an
artist, and a very proud one at that.

This afternoon, it is walking throughout the Kibble Street farmer's market on the edge of town.
Farmer Nham's legume plantation has had a good harvest this year. Peanuts, chickpeas, and
soybeans are off 40%. The Amaeysi admires the display and dips its hands into the produce.

"Good afternoon! One pound of chickpeas, my good sir." It says to the vendor. "I'm gonna
making hummus. It's my favorite."

A few minutes later, it's pacing up and down the local bakers' aisle, mulling over whether to get
the pain au chocolats or honey-buttered challah. Everything is baked fresh to golden perfection
right here at the market and mixed with the love only small town bakeries can give. Behind a
glass panel near the displays, a large set woman rolls a wad of butter into a slab of dough. A
young boy carries a tray of assorted muffins to the display counter. After a few minutes, the
Amaeysi settles on the challah. Goes better with the hummus, it thinks.

To get home, the Amaeysi takes the 4PM bus. It's staying in a small apartment downtown above
a sweetshop and a dentist's office on the second floor. On the way up, it says hello to Mrs.
Placker who lives her two children and works at an accounting firm. The last she knew, her ex-
husband lived in a nearby town named Hullington and worked as a furniture restorer. The entire
story of their divorce was told to it over three cups of hot cocoa on a freezing winter's day. As
she told the story, the Amaeysi listened intently.

They had been happily married for 11 years and moved to Yestown in the 5th year of their
marriage. It had always been their dream to move away from the big city and raise their children
in a small town.

"Is it really better here?" the Amaeysi asked with a genuine sense of curiosity. "People will be
people wherever they go, small town or big city."

She thought about it for awhile.

"Well the people here are more religious. They hold themselves to higher standards."

The Amaeysi nodded in response. At the time, it had only just moved into the town and nodded
simply because it thought it was more agreeable with her to agree than to disagree.

The reason for their divorce was one that the Amaeysi found quite interesting. According to the
story she told, he was starting to act distant and dispassionate two years ago, notably when they
were in the act of lovemaking. Soon, he began to spend long hours at work and only came home
after midnight. This of course led her to suspect that he was having an affair. A brief
investigation into his workplace also wielded no results.

It was after 6 months, which she described as tiresome and heart-rending, that he finally revealed
his secret. You see, he had fallen in love with a lusciously curved oak chair with an asymmetrical
pattern of spherical sandalwood pieces inlaid into the frame and a mulled blue velvet cushion
that felt like an angel's kiss (in his words). In a manner that implied much forethought, her
husband offered to bring the chair home so that the three of them could co-exist in a union that
pleased all involved parties. Needless to say, she threw him out of the house and signed up a
length divorce contract.

This story intrigued the Amaeysi greatly. A new sort of fetish? Perhaps a genuine romantic
relationship. Was the chair alive? Could the chair be alive? And if so, alive enough to love
someone back. Never before in its few centuries of existence had it heard of such a thing.

A week after hearing the story, it tracked down the husband to his workshop in Hullington and
arranged the meeting with him, posing as a potential client. As is usually the case with the
Amaeysi, it was promptly invited to his house for dinner. Apparently, he had been doing quite
well for himself after the divorce.

Dinner was a simple supper of rotisserie chicken and pasta. During the after meal wine, the
Amaeysi brought up the matter of the chair, before which the husband had not spoken a word
about.

"What chair?" he said a flush of expected embarrassment.

"The one you're in love with, of course." it said.

"How do you know about it? Who told you?"

"Who else but your wife? But not to worry, I haven't told anyone else... and I'm not here to judge.
Rather, I want to inquire more. Can a man truly love an object is what I'm wondering."

Flabbergasted, the man began to descend into a mess of behaviors the Amaeysi did not
recognize. Was he angry? Confused? Impassioned? Asinine perhaps? Most likely drunk.

"You... who are you!?" he shouted in a manner that the Amaeysi found to be both feeble yet
infuriated. An interesting combination.

"I am an Amaeysi. A wanderer of heavens and earths. I am only curious, my friend."

"You... you know about the chair?! Did you... DID YOU-!? GAAAHH!" the man draws a gun
hidden behind a side table, frothing at the mouth with expletives. The Amaeysi let out a sigh of
exasperation.

"So it has come to this I suppose." it said to itself.

Several minutes pass before the Amaeysi exits the house, wiping its hands with a pocket
handkerchief. Tucked away in its coat pocket lies a small vial once empty but now filled with a
glowing substance it would call "pollen". It does not, of course, resemble the pollen of bees both
in manner of physical form. The Amaeysi follow their own rules; their own wants and desires.

The husband, however, will never be found. Rather, he is forgotten by those around him and
those who were with him. To his ex-wife he is but a memory, lost to time. To his young children,
a dream. To his clients and friends, a non-entity. To his chair? Well, the Amaeysi never finds out
for it cannot find this mysterious chair.

Picking apart the remains of his mind, it discovers the chair was stolen five months ago when he
was out of the house. The following weeks were a pained cycle of alcohol and depression for
him. In a particular dire moment, he even reached out to his wife who chose not to entertain his
pleas for love and acceptance. If he felt so strongly about the chair, the Amaeysi thinks, then real
or not, the love must have been real... to the man at least.

Not quite satisfied, the Amaeysi puts the vial in a glass cabinet alongside a display of 12 others.
The pollen gives off a pretty light, he thinks.

The Amaeysi is not a monster. It is an artist, and a very proud one at that.

Chapter 5: Flashback

Jin is leaning by the heater, sipping hot cocoa laced with whiskey from her father's
cabinet. She's attempting to have a conversation with that blonde girl named Janet. Jin comments
on her hair, asking her what product she uses and if it damages her hair. Small talk, nothing
fancy. This is only her third night at youth group after all.
“Organic Grova dye.”
Janet is looking elsewhere, possibly at the guy with the tight jeans across the room.
“It looks good on you.”
“Yea... sure...”
 Janet gulps down her drink and flips her hair back. In a split second of the hair flip, Jin
notices where her roots end and the dye begins. Give it a few weeks and it’ll look tacky, she
thinks.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to talk to my friend over there...”
She blinks and Janet is already halfway across the room, disappearing into the crowd and
reappearing on the other end, talking up the pair of jeans. Exactly what Jin was expecting.
Jin walks over to the hot chocolate stand again to get a refill. There’s a guy sitting on the
table looking right at her with that one hopeful gaze with a slight of faux-friendliness. Those are
most dangerous kinds of gazes. The eyes which glint in dull lighting. His brows lifted. Full lips
curved into a gentle smile. The type of gaze which Jin doesn’t trust.
But she approaches him anyway. It does help that his cheekbones are taut and his jawline
is sharp enough to cut the spine of any strong, independent woman.
“Hey. Jin, isn’t it?” He says as she tries not to stare back into his eyes.
“Yep. It’s Jin. You?”
Lift the tap. Feel the cup fill up. Watch the bubbles swirl.
“David Strauss. Can’t help but notice what you’ve been doing... and I don’t think the
good Lord will approve.”
A chuckle escapes his mouth as his smile shows teeth.
“You mean the whiskey?” She looks around before slipping in a quick splash from a
small flash hidden in her jacket.
“Nope, that you’re drinking alone.”

It’s the type of weather that drives everybody inside where there's heat. One a cold
Thursday night, the church on Knight's street is packed with teenagers all huddled together, both
out of a need for warmth and arousal. Somewhere inside, somebody’s hand crawls into an
unbuckled pair of slacks while a loose quartet sings “God Is With Us” along with a rickety-rack
tune on the church piano. But Jin would rather be here right now, even as she feels the burn of
the cold of the frost covered metal railings beneath her jacket. The select company of one is
better than the dissonant cachophony of two dozen.
“Does this qualify as public drinking?” David asks before taking another swig.
“Well, we are in public. But then again we are also on church property, which is private
property.” Jin replies. Her cheeks are flushing red. From the cold or the company, Jin doesn’t
know.
“It’s God’s property.” He passes the flask back to her.
“I’d call that blasphemy if it weren’t so true.”
He laughs.
She laughs.
The last few drops disappear down their throats.

#
 Thirty minutes later, Jin and David are at that grilled wiener place down the road. She
doesn’t usually like fast food, makes her stomach queasy she says, but tonight she makes an
exception. As the plate of onion rings in front of her is chipped away bit by bit, David scarfs
down a beef chili dog with extra mozzarella cheese dripping off the side.
“Don’t worry about that Janet chick man, she’s as fake as her hair.” he speaks in between
mouthful.
Jin nibbles on an onion ring.
“It’s alright. I met many people like her back in the church on Leng Street.”
“Oh? Why’d your family move to Knight's Street church?”
He bites off the last third of his hot dog, chews it for three seconds, and swallows.
“Some stupid disagreement. Long story short, mom got into a fight with the pastor’s
wife. Not my whole family by the way, sister still goes there with her husband.”
“You have a sister?” he asks as he wipes his mouth with a pocket handkerchief. Greedy
but tidy, Jin makes a mental note.
“She's seven years older than me. Doesn’t work for shit cause her hubby’s dad runs one
of the the pork mills. Spends most of her time babying her kid and having brunch with her
‘girlfriends’.”
“I take it you guys aren’t very close.” David says as he takes his crumpled hot dog
wrapping and begins to smooth it out.
“Couldn’t be further apart. But I’m okay with my parents I guess. I love them, they love
me... not much else to it. How about you?” She puts half an onion ring back on the plate.
“We’re cool. We talk you know, so I guess we’re pretty good. I think that’s important in
any relationship. Talk.” David folds the wrapping into a neat 1 inch by 1 inch square. More
cleanly than greedy. Jin bites her bottom lip just a little.
“Want me to finish that?” he asks.
“Sure.” she says.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re walking down the street that leads to the park with the 50
foot iron statue of Jesus. At this hour and at this time of year, there are only three or four other
people on the street. But to Jin, it might as well be just her and David.
“You know, I’ve been on this street like a million times. Not once, I think, did I see you
come down here.” Jin is clutching a hot cup of coffee with two hands. A long wisp of steam
escapes the lid and warms her face.

“I probably was.” David shrugs with his hands in his pockets. “Just didn’t notice you I
guess.”
“Ah, if you didn’t notice me then, what did it take for you to notice me earlier?” Jin
smiles from cheek to cheek. The iron head of Jesus can be seen poking above the rooftops from
here. Always there, always watching.
“Well, they did make you introduce yourself to whole youth group. You said your favorite
animal was the eagle.”
 “Come on, I introduced myself to everybody and nobody has taken the time to have an
actual conversation with me except for you. Why?”
They reach the corner of the street. Go right and you’ll arrive at the Jesus. To the right is
Leng street. Half a mile down this road lies Jin’s house, the one with the red mailbox and
exposed brick walls. David pauses to think before he speaks.
“I saw that you didn’t have any friends so I decided to talk to you.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s pretty much it.” He takes a deep breath and exhales out a small cloud of
condensation. “Why did you talk to me?”
Without hesitation, Jin answers. “You looked interesting.”
He grins and shakes his head. “I don’t believe you. I’m not really an interesting person.”
Jin leans her head to the side. “You don’t have to be. I just have to believe that you are.”
“What are trying to say, Jin of Leng street?” David says, his eyes wide in curiosity and
his eyebrows scrunched.
“Well, David of the family Strauss,” Jin puts a hand on his shoulder. Looking at him eye
to eye, she says, “you can be whatever I want you to be... and I can be whatever you want me to
be.”
“I still don’t know what that means.”
“Means I’ll be seeing you next week and I’ll actually be looking forward to it.”
And with that, she turns around and leaves him behind at the street corner. Her boots
leave a path of footprints leading down the road. As her silhouette disappears behind a curtain
of snow, David contemplates running after her but stops himself. He parked his car at the church
a few miles back. On the long walk back, he finds that he can’t wipe the smile off his face, his
chest swelling with warmth.

Chapter 9: Flashback 2

A ball flies through the air and hits a bucktoothed girl right in the two front teeth. She covers her
mouth with a dirt spattered hand and screams for help, blood escaping from between her
fingers. Two volunteer “medics” rush to her aid. One of them kneels down on the grass beside
her and puts a gauze in her mouth. The other stands about a foot away, not quite sure what to do
with himself.
A few yards away, a guy dressed in a yellow uniform starts to shout at another guy tightly
clutching a bat to his chest. All Jin and David can hear from the edge of the field are the words
“fucking idiot”, “goddamn careless”, and “Jesus Christ!”.
“Wow, that’s pretty harsh.” Jin says as she passes a nearly empty bag of chips across the picnic
table to David.
“Kenneth has always been like this.” David says and empties the remains of the bag into his
mouth. “You’d think it’s because he has a thing for Lisa but nah, he just hate losing. Repressed
daddy issues or something...”
“Not very friendly for a friendly match...”
“Not a friendly match anymore it seems.” David shrugs. He crushes the bag into a small ball
before stuffing it in the back pocket of his jeans.
A large set man in loose fitting clothes walks across the field to Kenneth. He makes a few stern
motions to him and puts an arm around the batter. After a few minutes of restrained conversation,
Kenneth walks off the field with a red face.
The two “medics” carry the girl off the field and sit her down. As a middle aged woman puts her
hands on her shoulders in prayer, another girl dressed in a rose red spaghetti strap top and tight,
ripped jeans runs towards Jin and David. Her breasts swing with her step and the sweat on her
exposed skin glistens in the evening sun. Jin turns to look at David. He’s too busy playing with
bugs on the table to notice.
“Oh look, it’s Sarah...” Jin says, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. David looks up for a
second then looks back down. Jin’s mouth curves into a slight smile.
“Oh look, it’s your best friend.” David says and looks over at Jin with that smug look which he
know she hates. Jin rolls her eyes, still smiling.
“Hey, David! Jin! You guys wanna replace Lisa and Kenneth?” Sarah shouts as she bounces over
the ground and lands in front of them.
For what seems like the fifth time today, Jin notices how attractive she is. Curvy locks of golden
hair which somehow match with her very Asian look. Sharp features aligned on a perfectly
proportioned face. Dark eyes with long lashes. Slender legs and a round ass. And that makeup...
How does it stay so perfect with the sun and sweat. Jin wants to know but doesn’t want to ask.
“No thanks. We’re good.” Jin says, trying to not to be jealous. Sarah turns her attention to David.
“Hey, Davey... Don’t you wanna play? You’re really good at being shortstop.” she says as she
suddenly beams with eagerness, big grin and all. Jin gets the impression that her bared teeth and
stretched lips might imply that she has feelings for David. Well, that and the way her tits are on
the verge of falling out of her top.
“You guys go ahead. We’re good.” David says with a brief glance that makes his intention clear.
Like a solitary, perfectly-aimed pistol shot, Jin thinks.
Almost immediately, Sarah begins marching back to the field with a slightly heavier step. As she
walks away, Jin can swear she hears her mutter something under her breath. David looks back up
at Jin.
“You got something on your mind?” He knows what’s up... or does he? Jin can only suspect.
“Were you two a thing before?” She asks with puppy eyes and a sheepish tone. It’s all a front
however. Jin already knows everything there is to know. Most of all, that David loves her.
“Yeah.” He replies. There’s a tiny spark of reminiscing in his voice. Jin appreciates his honesty.
“Only dated three or four times really. Wasn’t my type.”
Something warm starts to swell up in Jin’s chest. Probably love, she thinks.
“I hear there’s a waterfall somewhere nearby. Wanna check it out?” she asks. He gets up, almost
springing from his seat.
“Why the hell not? Dinner’s in two hours. We got time.”
More than just a several yards away, a ball flies through the air and lands in the cleavage of a
rose red spaghetti strap top. This attracts the focused attention of several players, prompting a
brief halt in the game as Sarah attempts to wrestle the ball out from between her breasts.
Somewhere in the forest, Jin and David sit in the shadow of a gushing waterfall. Neither of them
feel the need to say anything. This is enough.

A week later, they’re chilling in David’s house. Jin is sitting down cross-legged on his bed.
Posters of shirtless wrestlers and athletes in skintight outfits. They’re all male, Jin notices. He’s
just put on a cassette tape that he bought on impulse at a garage sale for 50 cents. The cover is a
cut out piece of notebook paper with the words “For Don” written on the front. On the back, a
crude drawing of a six-winged dragon-like creature destroys an miniscule castle with a column
of fire breath. It’s surprisingly detailed.
The first few minutes of the tape consists of a pattern of three guitar chords played over a steady
drum beat. Probably a minus track, David says. Jin has no idea what that means but grunts in
agreement. They leave it on for two minutes before getting bored and stopping the tape.
“Is it all a minus track?” Jin asks, leaning back on his bed. David shrugs and forwards the tape a
few minutes. A familiar drum beat plays, only this time with slightly different chords. He pops it
open and throws the tape out. It hits Jin in the face.
“Gaaah!” she shouts. Before she knows it David pounces on the bed and starts to caress her face.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” He says as clamps his hands on both sides of her face and looks
around for a bruise. Jin laughs and puts his hands down.
“It’s okay babe.” She says, looking directly into his eyes. They’ve never looked so vulnerable.
So puppy-like. Jin swears they gloss with the faintest hint of tearing up.
Does she like him like this? So caring. So loving. She’s never seen this part of him before.
Something warm flashes in her head and moves down to her heart. In a brief moment, she closes
her eyes and savors the feeling. Yes. This is what she wants. Any yet, she wants more.
“You sure?” His face is directly in front of hers. Eye to eye. Nose to nose. Lip to lip. Her tongue
goes in for the kill. In an instant, everything inside her begins to shiver. With excitement? With
anxiety? She doesn’t know. Why should she feel anxious? After all, she’s the one in control.
Then she pulls out. His cheeks flush a dark shade of pink as he pants for air.
“Sure enough?” She asks and then sticks her tongue back in, not waiting for a reply.
#
It only takes five minutes for them to finish off. Getting out of bed however will probably take
more than 30.
“Wow.” he says.
“Wow.” she replies.
Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling. Something about the wooden paneling. She realizes she’s been
in this room 20 times in the last month and she’s never really taken in the ceiling. The way the
angles fit into each other. The way the eyes of the woodgrain form a semi-regular pattern that
kinda looks like a dog’s face. The texture of the paneling could feel pressed against her skin.
Then a pair of lips press against her cheek.
“I love you, Jin.” he says as if expecting a reply.

Jin keeps staring at the ceiling. Deep inside, she feels something claw into her soul and pull it
into the ground. Descending. Then rising. Then falling again. Is this how it’s supposed to feel?
she wonders.
But life is too short for wavering emotions. Take it by the throat and wrestle it to the ground, she
thinks. If you don’t live life, what’s the point of living?
She kisses him back.
“What are you going to do with the tape?” she asks.
David thinks silently for a moment. Jin watches as his nose twitches as it usually does when he
thinks.
“Probably record over it. It’s pretty much useless to me.”
“Yeah...” she says, trying to enjoy what’s left of the moment. “That’s what we do to useless
things. Record over them...”
“Yeah...” he replies. "I'm thinking something ska... you like trumpets Jin?”
#