Acetarium

As I finished fighting the bugs in openoffice — I lost — at 4:25 in the morning, I heard some street cleaning cars go by. It’s almost time that the garbage truck will come and pull up our dumpster as loud as they could just outside our bedroom. Luckily, I’m sleeping in the isolation room this morning because I am like a “virus fountain” as described by my mate.

I open my school mail one last time and see an advertisement e-mail from a scientific tool company, sent at 23:15 last night. The sales rep offers a better tool for mutagenesis. I feel sympathy towards this person who evidently had to send a work spam e-mail at eleven at night; yet, at the same time, the exclamation marks in the title paints a picture of a chipper sales lady talking about how much more efficiently they can introduce mutation in their samples.

At 4:46AM, that seems to be as confusing as the meat sculpture of a pirate ship. Isn’t this impressive? She says with a beautiful business smile. I tell her that I am vegetarian. She quickly produces a clever response to de-confuse me — actually, my imagination is unable to construct her answer.

It is 6 minutes till 5AM.

As I dug through my eyebrows in search for the lost ring, I found another memorial piece: a scar.

The region is irregularly shaped and much whiter and smoother than the rest of my face. I traced the edge of this newly discovered art and tried to remember what might have happened.

But the memory is lost. Only the item is left.

The ring has left but the memory isn’t lost.

I covered the scar with the bushes and stopped looking for the ring.

It was a sunny and windy day. As we rode on our newly built xtracycle, Mako’s hat flew away. It rolled and rolled and I ran and ran all the way across the square’s intersection. Just as the hat hit a curve, a guy ran out to pick up the hat.

Oh good. Now the hat’s not going to roll any more.

I slowed down. He put on the hat on his head. I sped up. He adjusted the fit. With a smile, I apologized and said that the hat was mine. He still didn’t take off the hat. With an even bigger smile, I took the hat off from his head. And that stang my heart — I know you liked the hat too.

The hatfight ended without a catfight but there are a few scratches left on my heart and the hat.