Young Writers Society

Jonathan He swapped the rumpled hoodie and baggy trousers for a pair of creased Ralph Lauren shirt and Gap jeans. Well, at least the ketchup packet didn’t leak all over the shirt, he sniffed at the dented packet in his hands disdainfully before chucking it into the nearby bin. Shifting his weight lightly, Jonathan zipped the bag shut and glanced beyonds the traffic lights. Even though no one had bothered to put a border between the upper and lower class of town, though those classifications probably aren’t even valid in the 21st Century. Allambee road was divided into two halves, one was littered with rubbish, beer cans, grafftti scrawled over the black tar like deranged bird poop and pieces of damp newspaper clung to the sidewalks. The other were pristine and clean, the white pavement shone with an unholy whiteness beneath the glaring sun and he wondered as he crossed, how the two managed to live such different lives in one town. You should know, you are one. His mind scoffed silently. The air wasn’t precisely better on this side of town, but it lacked that stale and age-old air of a place long abandoned by hope. Two girls in perfectly styled clothes strode by, their matching blonde hair and flawless makeup seem to jump out at him like clowns and he winced. What is it with these girls, and their doll-like faces. It creeped the hell outta him. 234 Rission Street was a street in the business district of the town, 234 being one of the buildings that well, he has no idea what it does. Only that whenever he walked past, there were always at least five security guards guarding the entrance in sleek, navy and black uniforms. Their eyes a uniform shape of hawkish gliny watching as if someone could drop from the sky and bomb the building. Instead of using the main road, he took a detour using the smaller roads that he used to play in when he was a kid. Those were the good days when people had more freedom, when curfews were assigned and nobody kept track of who’s doing what if no one was harmed. The cobblestones were rang a melodious melody as the soles of his converse strode across the roads where he had ridden in the pouring rain, passed the light pole where he had his first failed love. Down the street where he had ran naked one winter night because someone had dared him to, round a corner to the shop that was provided his source of happiness. Danna’s candy shop! The paint flaked off the board in ribbons of red and yellow, he paused a moment as he always did and wondered where Danna had disappeared of to. There wasn’t a kid in the town who didn’t know Danna, Danna the Santa they used to call her. Because whenever a kid passes her by, lollies of all kind always seem to manifest out of nowhere. And one summer, when he was seven. Danna’s shop had closed and ever since, the empty windows that seem to scorch against his souls. “God’s Dammit, Danna.” He whispered fiercely, swiping a teardrop away with an angry flick of his finger and strode on. Annoyed and confused by the sudden paroxysm of nostalgia. By the time he made it to all the glory of the Corp Building, all seventy-seven floor of glass and steel he had his emotions under control. He scanned the perimeter, two guards at the entrance. He backed away slowly, straightening up his clothing before reopening the bag flicking through the deck of false ID cards. The Corp one barely scraped off, passing him off as one of the Officer’s kid. A very minor office so no one had bothered to check if it is legit but then, what’s a kid going to do much. Apparently he wasn’t the only one, the guards glanced at the card and let him through. And he praised whatever deity there was above when the detectors didn’t scream their shrill warning. Coolness instantly draped over his skin like another skin as he stepped into the cool interior, shivering lightly he opened up the slip he had kept inside the jean pocket and wondered, who the hell he was suppose to deliver 50g of cocaine to. Perhaps he didn’t notice that he was standing smack middle in the foyer, with his mouth in a grimace but one particular did. And Jonathan received a rather nasty clip to the shoulder as the man brushed past with more force than usual, moments later, gritting his teeth at the pain he realized whom his customer was. Who else would randomly bump into a kid with such force when the foyer was particularly empty? A sly grin stretched his pale lips as he recollected himself and scurried after the tall man, standing by the elevator unmoving. Waiting. Waiting. He walked apprehensively and wondered how he was going to trade this. There were surely CCTV in every corner and room in this building, and the silence and power that radiated from the man beside him was more than frightening. They arrived on the 75th floor. Scarlet carpet dotted with carnations greeted him. Doorknobs of gleaming gold accompanied him down the corridor. The stopped at door 101. Click. “Please wait inside.” The modernly interiors awaited him as if it were going to swallow him alive. One step. Two step. Three. Click. He turned, palm against the cool ivory door. Who am I waiting for?