A Life Interrupted

Grey. That’s the color that comes to mind when I think about this city. An endless expanse of monotone shades, speckled with the occasional false vibrancy of neon billboards promising better days and glamorous nights. In the distance, the crimson steel tower that is the symbol of this city, reaching for the night sky, pierced my heart with a sorrow only a forsaken lover could understand. The city stretches out beneath it, an enormous canvas of faded dreams and ambitions.

Cloaked in its relentless mediocrity, deepdown every single soul living in this city aspire to be someone else, someone rich or famous, or preferably both. Yearn to living the life that they see on those perpetually illuminating billboards advertising unattainable lifestyles that are scattered across every corner of this city, their brightness rivalling the sun.

My name is Shou. A specter among men, I observe these people every day as they pass by the reflective glass walls of the convenience store where I work part-time. The restless swarm of people in their crisp suits and elegant dresses, like tiny ants in a frenzy, each carrying the burden of their dreams. Whispering stories of those who dared to dream, those who tried to rise from the mundane and touch the sun. But this is not a tale of those who made it, this is about me, the leftovers, the forgotten.

A mere half-hour ago, I was the one scrubbing public toilets in the convenience store, my part-time workplace. I possess no university degree, have never attended college, lack close friends, and am a nobody among the millions of despair-ridden faces that populate this city.

Once, long ago, I was bathed in the incandescent light of success. A 'Wonder Kid' who spent years memorizing trivia facts to participate in a TV quiz show offering a prize of 10 million yen. I vividly recall the cheers of the audience within that studio when, as a 12-year-old elementary school kid, I was on the brink of breaking the record as the youngest winner in the show's history. But then I tasted the bitterness of failure in the final round, just one step away from victory. The cheers vanished, and I saw the disappointment etched on my parents' faces in the audience. From that moment, every ounce of self-confidence within me evaporated, leaving no trace behind.

As I ambled towards a relatively deserted train station,I can still feel the heavy intensity of that moment. What followed was a hollow existence. No headlines singing praises of my achievements, no school pals patting my back in acknowledgement. All the random trivia I had crammed into my brain over the years were about as useful as a bicycle for a fish.

I mean, who on earth would want to know that the 'King of the Deserts' isn't the Sahara, but our chilly friend Antarctica? That's right! Apparently, it's so stingy with its precipitation, it's technically classified as a desert. Or that the average human farted gas enough every day to fill a balloon half a liter large! Who would have thought we were so... gaseous? Over a month, that’s enough to inflate nearly 14 party balloons! But no, these scintillating facts were not even test material.

And let's not forget about the epic pillow fight that took Sweden by storm, with a staggering 6,000 brave warriors armed with feathery weapons. One would think such a feathery extravaganza would make a mark, right? Nope. These fun little nuggets of information were utterly useless in my current predicament. The ‘Wonder Kid’ was now teetering at the bottom rung of the academic ladder, all but forgotten, and I could hardly believe my luck.

As the train door closes and the buildings outside replace each other in quick succession, my memory journeys back to my past, specifically to the years after elementary school when I first experienced love at first sight in junior high school. Her name was Aika, and the image of her long, shiny black hair and her sharp yet shy eyes meeting mine during the new student orientation is still clear in my mind. We were in the same class for three years during junior high, but I was too nervous to talk to her, let alone greet her.

Then, during our school farewell party, Aika suddenly spoke to me. She remembered my name and asked which high school I planned to attend. As it turned out, we were going to the same school. Reflecting on that, I smile to myself, recalling how anxious I was, thinking she would vanish from my life. Our connection, albeit sporadic, had etched itself deep into my heart. Yet, things didn't get any better after that. We were never in the same class during the three years of high school. Though I always sought opportunities to pass by her classroom, and though we crossed paths and exchanged awkward greetings hundreds of times, the seeds of love remained. They were still buried, awaiting the right conditions for blossoming, until all chances ran out, and Aika had to leave for overseas university studies.

Well, here I am, finally at my stop. I stumble out of the train carriage, still chattering to myself about the half-dozen years gone by like water down a drain. Six whole years, that's roughly 2,190 days if you're into that sort of meticulous counting. Not that I had given myself even a five-minute to seize my opportunity, before she vanished. How foolish I was! Clearly, I was at the bottom of the ranks.

Suddenly engulfed by an outpouring of regret, I'm late to notice a person rushing past me. Our legs tangle briefly, causing me to stagger backward. I fall and sit on the train tracks, just as my train departs.

Panicked, I scream out, and a woman on the platform points and screams in my direction. A few other latecomers start running towards the platform's end. I try to stand up, but the pain in my leg, likely sprained from bearing my weight when I fell, prevents me. The platform edge is too high for me, and I'm too weak to climb out on my own. My daily exercise of standing for hours at the store's cash register and cleaning the bathrooms was clearly inadequate to offset my unhealthy lifestyle.

A train approaches rapidly from the end of the tunnel, and it seems that my life is about to end here. I close my eyes as the people around start shouting. In my cynicism, I think, "So, they can see me, this nobody, after all…"

As the deafening roar of the train draws near, signifying my impending demise, I am suddenly pulled upward, just as the gust from the passing train sweeps away my cold sweat. Three men had lifted me onto the platform, one of them, a middle-aged man, scolding me harshly. My stomach churns, coming to terms with the fact that I just brushed against death. I vomit on the platform.

Apparently, no matter how desperate my circumstances, I am not ready to die yet. After borrowing some cleaning equipment, repeatedly expressing my gratitude, and apologizing profusely, I leave the station, carrying a newfound resolve.

My phone rings. It's Aika. Yes, after years of being separated by the sea, we had been reunited a month ago at a school reunion. Aika is more beautiful now, her short hair perfectly frames her face. Her gaze remains the same—sharp yet gentle. It's then that I realize my love for her still lingers.

Today, we had planned to meet again, after last week's reunion. The incident at the station served as a wake-up call. I've been granted a second chance at life, and this is the chance to express my feelings to her. I will not wating it again.

My leg still throbs, my clothes are still dusty with some unsightly oil stains from falling on the tracks earlier, and my mouth still tastes like vomit. But this could be my last chance to confess my feelings to her. I feel Buoyed by the thrill of me escaping death and the promise of the evening, I will keep pressing on. The café, our meeting place, was in sight. I answer the call while running.

"Shou?" her voice echoed softly from the other end.

"I'm here, Aika," I replied, catching my breath.

"Already?" There was a pause, followed by a soft chuckle, "I guess I’m not the only one who’s nervous."

I laugh, I can feel warm spreading through my chest. "Yes, I just left the station, I can see the cafe. Just wait another minute." While my breath comes in quick gasps as I speak, I can't help but smile as I reply.

The cafe is visible at the end of the street, its lights illuminating the evening that's slowly transitioning into night. From the few silhouettes visible through the bright windows, one of them must be Aika.

As I was hustling to meet her, my mind began to race alongside me, like a faithful old hound dog trying to keep up. A peculiar series of 'What-ifs' painting an extravagant image of a future life with Aika, starting with agrand wedding where Aika looked divine in white...

"Whoa.., Easy there" I chided myself, 'a simple hello might be a good starting point.' But then, would this meeting be considered a date if she said yes? Would it be inappropriate to suggest a .. love hotel? 'shit!' I cursed at myself. The fear of my 30 years of virginity being exposed to a potentially more experienced Aika swooped in. Desperately trying to clear the love-induced fog in my head, my imagination decided to venture further and consider the faces of our potential children. 'Oh, and why not imagine our retirement in a castle in Europe while at it?' I mocked myself. Wait! Hold off, No time to day dreaming, I need to muster my courage to confess to her in a minute!

This spurs me to run even faster. I'm too late in noticing that there's a large intersection between the cafe and me.

The blaring horn and the sudden bright lights of a large truck are next to me. It brakes too late.My body is flung, rolls, and then lies lifelessly in the middle of the road.

"SHOU!" Aika's scream shatters the silence of the night. It's the last thing I hear in this world. And then, the love I had yet to express abruptly ends with my life.