His name stains the headlines of every newspaper I come across.

People cast glances over their shoulders and keep their loved ones close. They're afraid of him—afraid that he might leap out of the darkness and gobble them up like some ravenous beast. Their fear is not unwarranted. For some time, I was afraid of him too.

Until I discovered that he was me.

Since then, I've tried my best to separate myself from him. He's not a part of me, but rather an entity trapped within the walls of my mind. He whispers lies in my ear. He reminds me of things I thought I'd forgotten. Painful things. I acknowledge his irritating presence knowing I cannot rid myself of him. The idea of this constant conflict sickens me, but I must endure it.

It's raining outside today. Walls of water pelt the city ceaselessly, deposited by dark low-lying clouds. The streets become a sea of rain coats and umbrellas.

Hunger claws at my stomach.

I step away from the window and pad across the old wooden floor towards a doorway. My living space consists of two rooms, with the kitchen being a smaller, separate room. The living room wasn't much bigger. The bathroom branched off of it. Not much room in there either.

Looking through the fridge only disappoints me. There isn't much to eat besides some cheese and a few strawberries I had bought from a farmer's market a few days ago. I wanted a hot meal, but that meant I would have to venture out into the city. I pondered over this for a brief moment before ultimately deciding that I would leave. I need to stretch my legs anyways.

After I scrape together a few crumpled dollar bills and some change, I grab the ratty old coat that hung by the front door and pull it on. I didn't have an umbrella to shield myself from the rain. The hood of my jacket would do just fine. It was only water, after all. Before I left, I quickly grab a pair of black gloves and slip them on.

I open the door and step onto the landing, locking it behind me. The stairs are to my left, only a short distance from the door. My footsteps blended into the constant pattering of the rain against the tin roof as I traveled down the stairs. I like when it rains. It's almost like the air is purified by the little droplets hurtling through the sky. It smells nice, if you can get past the musty scent that often hangs around the street. 

I keep my head low as I walk. I don't need a full view of what's ahead to know where I'm going. I've traveled up and down this street many times before.

Someone bumps my shoulder as they pass by. They are gone before I can glare at them. I huff and go about my business. Navigating these crowds can be stressful. Thankfully, not many people come out in the rain.

The place I'm looking for is on my right, on the street corner. A little bell jingles as I push open the door and step inside. The woman at the register says something in Chinese, presumably to someone hidden from view. I wish I could understand her. I don't know any Chinese.

As I approach the counter, however, she speaks clear English. "What would you like, sir?"

I realize I haven't decided what I want. I quickly scan the menu for something simple and hopefully not too spicy.

"Uh.. I'll have the chicken lo mein, please." The words fumble awkwardly out of my mouth. My heart beats a little quicker with anxiety.

She nods and writes it down, then asks for payment. It isn't too much. I hand her the money and tell her to keep the change.

My heart stubbornly refuses to calm down, even after I sit down. Although the interaction had been very brief, it was not having my order in mind beforehand that brought about this anxiety. Usually I would have everything memorized before I even arrived.

I try to focus on the streaks of rain rolling down the window beside me, breathing soft and slow. If a person happened to pass by, I averted my gaze until they were gone. I didn't want them to think I was staring at them.

My food arrives before I even realize it. The same woman was suddenly standing there, steaming plate in hand. It takes me a moment to reorient myself.

I carefully take the plate from her. "Thank you."

She nods and swiftly returns to the register. I let out a soft sigh before hungrily digging in.

•
•
•

I'm sitting on a bench somewhere when I remember the fortune cookie stuffed in my coat pocket. I suppose I should eat it now before I forget.

After fishing it out of my pocket, I tear open the wrapper and gently break the cookie in two. A slip of paper flutters into my lap as I shove both pieces into my mouth. I pick it up and squint to read the tiny print.

It says: "A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life."

Whatever that means.

I discard both the fortune and the wrapper in a nearby trashcan and check the time. The afternoon is young. There is still plenty of time to do things. But, what things would I do? I don't have a job, nor do I have any hobbies. It was a rainy day, so there wasn't much I could do outside. Maybe I could go to the bookstore and see if they'll let me read? It would help me catch up on a few things, and maybe remember some stuff as well.

"Hey buddy! If you aren't waitin' for the bus, get off the bench!" Someone yells at me.

My head snaps up to face them. A business man and a woman I assume to be his wife lingered nearby. Before I can even get a word out, he starts yelling again.

"What are you, deaf?" He snaps, his thick eyebrows furrowing together in a harsh frown. "I said if you aren't waitin' for the bus, get off the bench! This ain't no park! My wife is pregnant and needs to sit down!"

My gaze shifts around as I fumble for a response. There are other benches, most of which are empty. There is also room on the bench I was sitting on. It wasn't like I took up much space.

"There are other benches—" I attempt to defend myself, but he shuts me down.

The entitled man continues to scream horrendous things at me, most of which my brain automatically shuts out. I sit there in a state of shock, unable to speak. I just took it, knowing that if I fought back I would end up hurting him—or worse.

Maybe if I tried to ignore him, he would eventually leave me alone.

"What seems to be the problem here, folks?"

I spot a flash of navy blue in my peripheral vision.

It's a cop.

Shit.

I don't stick around to explain myself. The officer's presence alone was enough to spook me.

Before I know it, I'm on the next street over and still going. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I can hardly breathe. It feels like someone is squeezing my lungs in their fists.

I look over my shoulder for the cop. He's not there. I quicken my pace in order to reach my apartment faster. Hopefully they aren't looking for me. I haven't done anything wrong.