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As the light of the evening sun set across Washington DC, painting the city in hues of orange and gold, the world outside seemed to slow down, embracing the serene beauty of the twilight hour.
Streets buzzed with the quiet energy of people returning home, the distant laughter of children playing in the parks, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the cool, evening breeze.
Yet in a humble apartment, amidst the clutter of a lived-in life, Peter Asher, a man of 25 with a stubby beard, screamed out loud in frustration.
Defeated for the 50th time by Malenia Blade of Miquella, the words "You Died!" were mockingly plastered across his screen.
"Ah! Damn it, there was only a little more to go..." Peter sighed, his voice a mix of irritation and resignation.
He glanced out of his window, noting the shift from day to night with a sense of surprise.
"Oh! It's evening already."
The sudden, insistent ring of his phone broke the room's stillness.
Peter stood up, kicking aside the piles of takeout containers and trash that had accumulated over the week.
"I should really clean this place," he thought, as he rummaged through his messy bed to find his phone.
The caller ID displayed 'Mom', and with a sigh, Peter braced himself for the conversation ahead.
"Hello," Peter said, his voice carrying a hint of weariness that he hoped his mother wouldn't detect.
"Ah! So, how have you been?" his mom's voice came through the phone, warm and filled with the familiar concern that always made Peter feel both comforted and a bit suffocated.
"Fine," he replied, his voice tight.
"That's good, I have sent you this month's allowance," she informed him, her tone light but with an underlying note of responsibility.
"Thanks," Peter responded.
"Is everything at school alright? You sound weak," she probed further, her motherly intuition kicking in.
"No mom, everything's A-OK," Peter assured her, masking his frustration with a forced cheerfulness.
"That's good. Are you taking care of your health?" she continued.
"Yeah," he replied, his response brief, not wanting to delve into the realities of his less-than-ideal lifestyle.
"Don't play around too much, ok," she cautioned.
"Ok, mom," Peter responded.
"Study hard, ok, my little pookie bear," she said endearingly, her affectionate nickname for him making him feel both loved and slightly embarrassed.
"Thanks, mom," Peter said, quickly ending the call before she could sense his discomfort or delve any deeper. He placed the phone down, wrapping one hand over his head.
It was a lie, a carefully constructed facade that I'd maintained with an expert's skill.
I hadn't been to the university in months, maybe longer.
Reflecting back, it was three years ago when my journey started, moving from Silver Spring, MD to Washington DC for my studies.
Initially, everything about the city seemed dazzling and full of promise.
YOU ARE READING
Pokemon: Path to the Unknown
FantasyPeter Asher is a university dropout who spends his days cooped up in his apartment playing video games and wasting his life away. One morning Peter wakes up in Ash Ketchum's body in the world of Pokemon. Peter struggles to maintain Ash's life as th...
