START POINT

Nothing was perfectly aligned, as it should be. I don't have enough money for happiness. I don't have enough money for success. But money is not all that matters!

"Why do it?"

"I will do it for myself."

"Can you make it? What if you fail? What if you fall?"

"Even if I fail and fall, I will feel better than not giving it a try."

"You already tried it before."

"Yes, but I gave up then."

Alex was preparing a cup of coffee. The smell was angelic. Something like that is a form of art. The dark coffee was black as night. He didn't put any milk in it. I just knew there was no sugar as well. It was just pure coffee taste that some like.

"That smell is otherworldly. Like, how many smells exist in this world? Is there a number? Even if there is, I think you, my friend, just discovered a new one."

Smirk. Raise an eyebrow and clench the fist. Brush your hair with fingers that have calluses from table tennis practice.

"You mean the palm of my hand?"

"It doesn't matter, man, where you have them. I am painting a picture here of how your hand is hardworking, you know."

"But it is not?" I was standing confused and looking at my palm.

"Sure it is. Shut up. The smell of the coffee is spreading softly, invisibly, like a ninja. Its aroma is gentle like a mother with child. The light in the room is bright. It is being reflected on the tables, the walls, the floor, but coffee is dark."

"Let's just play one more game while your coffee cools off a little bit."

"What kind of table tennis racket do you use?"

"The cheap one." Mark raised his racket to show its disastrous state.

"Great, so it will not be hard for me to beat you. Ha ha ha ha ah. Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha."

"Your laugh is what a fart is to a funeral!"

"You are the one to talk. You laugh like a dead donkey."

"I will crush you!"

5-1

9-1

9-8

11-8

"Alex, I almost had you, you know."

"If you started playing from the start with full heart, you would have had me, indeed. But you will always lose to me, Mark. You don't have the heart for it."

"My heart is bigger than it should be. One of the chamber walls is seeping a little bit of the blood or something. The doctor didn't explain it well to me, but I am almost indestructible."

"Your heart is what now?"

"You know, it's like a deformity. Special heart."

"Nothing special about it, Mark. Your heart is just like everyone else's. Just stop talking and let me drink my coffee now."

The room was silent. The walls were cold. Silence was disturbing. You want to tell something. You want to hear something. You don't want to bear the silence of the whole world for so long. But the silence will always be here. No amount of great music, no amount of chatter and sounds can help you to escape from reality.

"Shut up, Alex."

"Mark, just let me be. I beat you fair, and I always will."

"One more, Alex. I demand one more. I am not going until I win."

1-0. Great serve by Alex, and I didn't slice it enough, and it hits the net.

2-0. Bad serve by him, but I still missed my forehand spin completely.

3-0. Good serve by me, but I hit the forehand too strong.

6-0. I hit the forehand spin too hard into the out.

8-0. I hit my backhand too hard.

God dammit, stop being an animal! You bully, why am I bullying this ball? Just hit it with more passion, with more heart, with more conviction. Give it all.

9-0. I got a good forehand spin in. I thought there was no way he returns that, but he did. What an absolute unit Alex is.

11 to 1.

"Great game, Alex."

"You too, Mark."

"You just need to get a little bit more feeling for when to spin it harder and when to slice it, you know. That comes with time."

"So you are saying I need to pay attention to what you do as well, to be able to win, not just focus on myself?"

"Probably, yes."

"You know, in chess, Alex, my grandpa would always tell me as well to look closely at opponent moves."

"I may or may not have an issue with paying attention to people."

"Don't worry, Mark. You will find a girlfriend eventually."

"Dammit, Alex, I am not talking about that kind of attention. Besides, I have a girlfriend for two years now, and we are very happy."

"Oh, right."

We sat down at the clunky chairs, and I took a sparkling water out of the fridge. My body was burning. I was wet all over the place, and the sweat was starting to cool me down. My face was hot as a rock on the summer sun. I could feel that it is red as a monkey's ass.

"I need your honest opinion, Alex."

"I am always honest, brother. Honesty is the key. If you are not honest..."

"Yeah, yeah, just tell me straight..."

"Straight."

"No, dammit, gosh, god dammit. I mean, tell me directly: am I good? Am I good enough?"

"That is a psychologist question, Mark. I am not at liberty to solve your childhood trauma and issues with your mother, you know. But if I had to pinpoint the root cause of that, it is probably that relationship."

My leg was dancing under the table, and I was pulling myself from utterly slapping the living God in Alex and his annoying, arrogant, and stupid way of joking, or whatever this is that he is doing now and every other day.

"Am I better than people here at table tennis? That is what I meant by good enough. Do you think even after not playing for a few years seriously, I could be good at it?"

"Sure, man."

"Thanks."

At the table near our coffee table, two guys were playing for fun. They had smiles on their faces. They were chatting. They were real friends.

I wished I had friends in that moment. But it is a thought that I often have. I somehow put myself in this zugzwang position where I always fail to make new friends.

Well, I guess it's better to have no friends than bad friends.

My girlfriend also says that she has no friends. We are broke in friend units. One friend, two friends, three friends, like coins—they have value.

I detach from anyone without value and from all the fake friends. They were not supportive of me. But was I ever supportive of them? I left them because they never cared about me. But did I ever care about them? They never truly listened, or they never were fully open. Was I ever any of those things? I mean, of course not. It is a sign of weakness, but still, I was fun to hang around, maybe once in a while. Even though I stopped drinking, I am still funny and somewhat friendly. I am not a bad person now. I am better. I am better than them. That's why I stopped hanging with them.

But was it even my decision? Was I the one that left?

It doesn't matter. I am better off anyway. Even if it is my fault, I will be better.

I am certainly better at table tennis than those two not-in-shape guys at the table near us. Look at them. They are not as good as me in anything. I can just tell by one look.

The thoughts darker than the first coffee in the morning. The thoughts that make people hate you. These thoughts were in my head all the time. I was not surprised by these thoughts. I know even worse thoughts can emerge from my genius mind. It's a good thing that my thoughts stay deep inside me where they belong.