The next most important reason—which was probably just my own imagination or something—was that this was the only place where I could actually daydream. I felt like sitting here, all alone, was the only time I could allow myself wild fancies, like the idea that a strange bus might show up here one day and take me somewhere far away. I knew that such a fantasy would never come true. I knew that I was just as stupid for sitting here in my delusions as the vapid people in my class who consoled themselves with such things. That was why I only did this here, in private. This was the only place where it was permitted. The only place where, twice a day, I could truly be alone.
I wondered if everyone had a place where they could daydream.
Well, other people probably didn’t need something like that.
I sat there until my sweat began to dry, standing up once my thoughts had put themselves back in order. Then I left the shelter to once again become acquainted with my boring, everyday self. There was not a single soul to my left or right along the strange, twisting asphalt path.
After about a thirty minute walk, I returned home to see that my brother was finally back. We exchanged a hollow greeting in the living room before I conveyed the message from our mother.
“Hold up, wasn’t your birthday today, Kaya?”
“Tomorrow.”
There was no point in being defiant towards a family that was in no way lacking—other than their dullness. Leaving him with that one-word answer, I headed up to my room to change. I stayed there until dinner researching mountain climbing, which had occurred to me during my run as a potential next challenge for myself. I always thought of the sports that involved competing against other people, or against the records that others had set, as pointless for all but those who would make their marks on history—but having nature as my opponent might not be so bad. If I saw something with my own two eyes that I couldn’t see in my normal life, perhaps that would awaken something within me. Though there was a strong possibility that I might see some beautiful sight and just think to myself, Is that all?
Just as I was reading an article online about a monk who had climbed to a mountain summit that no one had ever reached before, my stomach started to rumble. I went downstairs and ate the dinner my mother had prepared, savoring it well enough, before sharing another pointless exchange with my brother and returning to my room. My parents used to worry about how much time I spent holed up in my room, but that didn’t seem to concern them as much lately. They knew by now that I had a set after-dinner routine.
After spending another hour or so looking up the necessary equipment for mountain climbing, I once more changed into my sweats. Then I descended the stairs and headed for the living room, where my brother still sat.
“I’m going out.”
“’Kay, try not to get caught.”
Ignoring his flat reply, I went to the front door and put on my shoes. Sure enough, it was chilly outside. Still, it was fairly comfortable considering that not long ago I’d had to bundle up before heading out at night. I started out once more in the same direction I had run earlier that evening. I’m sure my family assumed that my nightly runs were somewhere with good visibility, but that was not the case. Ever since I realized that spending too much time in my room would attract unwanted attention, I started wasting a lot of time just wandering around in the dark, hoping to avoid any family reunions.
The speed at which I ran at night was not the only difference from my earlier run. This time, I headed directly for the bus stop. I did not pass through the forest, instead walking leisurely down the dimly lit asphalt road. While I was still around inhabited homes, I didn’t have to think about much as I walked. But I had to be more careful as it grew darker, the scenery around me changing to streetlights that stood farther and farther apart, empty houses, and the occasional passing bicycle. I wore a glowing band around my wrist to keep myself from getting run over, but if I spaced out, I might just take a tumble into a field or a rice paddy. If I did, there was no telling when someone might pass by who could help me.
Still, it was a route I took almost every day, so I once again arrived at the forest without issue. As I walked along the darkened asphalt, streetlights looking down upon me, the bus stop came into view.
Though the bus stop was situated at the exact darkest point in the space between streetlights, it was still lit by the moon, though nothing else. After all, there was no need to have a light for a bus that never came. Beyond the sliding door of the shelter was what looked to be a switch for a fluorescent light, but I had never tried turning it on. I had no idea if it would even work.
The shelter blocked the wind from getting in, so in winter, it was warmer in here than outside. I shut the door and sat down upon the bench that I could only assume was still there. I crossed my legs, then removed my wristband and put it in my pocket. In the darkness, the light was only a distraction.
Pitch-black darkness.
It would be hard to describe the shelter in that moment any other way. Outside was slightly brighter, which made this place seem like a completely different existence from the dull world surrounding it.
Here was the only place where I was permitted to dream. Twice a day, this was the only time I was allowed to be my own boring self.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the special something that might come for me someday.