Wire Fence

Chapter 1 - The Eccentric

Chapter 1 -

Dawai was the eccentric of Alridy. We all had our own titles, and Dawai's title was eccentric. Though, he once told me that eccentric only meant slightly strange, and with only unconventional views and behaviors. If anything, that was only partially true for Dawai. He was strange, but exceedingly strange. And he had unconventional views, but they were very peculiar views. In any case, it didn't matter what Dawai's title was in Alridy; he was still one of the only friends I had, and one of the only friends that I actually wanted.

"Did you go to the Border today?" I asked, pulling myself up onto the counter and sitting with my legs crossed as I watched Dawai search his meager apartment for some blank typewriter paper. Besides the Leader, he was the only person in Alridy with his own apartment room. Everyone else had to share their apartment or home with another family or two. We had to share our two-floor house with three other families, two of which contained children that were absolute ass-holes. Though, the fact that this apartment was his and only his didn't mean it was any cleaner than that shared by two or three families. If anything, his apartment was worse. You couldn't move forward two feet without knocking into a stack of books or papers first. That was another peculiar thing about Dawai; he owned books. No one in Alridy owned books. As a matter of fact, books were outlawed. Yet he still seemed to own millions of them.

Dawai cleared his throat and ran a hand through his greasy hair before answering, "No, I didn't. Not today. I'll probably go tomorrow."

He found what he was looking for -- a half-used pack of typewriter paper -- and wandered back over to his desk. The only clear surface in the apartment was his desk; even the sink was flooded with papers. I could always imagine Dawai finishing up some note or notice and just throwing it onto the ground in order to clear off his desk, before going on to do something he enjoyed far more. That factor about Dawai, the pure carelessness and messiness of his personality, made me like him even more.

"What are you gonna write?" I wondered aloud, hoping that it was going to be one of his stories. The closest thing I had in life to books were Dawai's stories. I desperately longed for something to read, something to make me connect more with Dawai, but I was too afraid of owning my very own books. Sure, Dawai had offered to lend me some before, but I was always too much of a coward to take up the offer.

"A notice. What's the name of the family that lives in the room at the very end of your hallway?" He asked, glancing at me sideways. I answered instantly, without having to think about it. Here in Alridy, everyone acted as if they were part of your family. The people that lived with you were so close to you, it'd be weird if you married one of them.

"Angelo."

"Italian?" Dawai asked, looking up at me again. I felt butterflies in my stomach whenever he looked up at me, through the messy bangs that clung to his forehead. It wasn't that I was deeply and madly in love with Dawai. It was just that he was an older guy, and here in Alridy, children were only allowed to be friends with those near their age.

"What?" I furrowed my eyebrows as I stared back at him, wondering whether my cheeks had gone red.

"Never mind..." He muttered, turning back to his typewriter.

"When are you gonna teach me how to use one of those?" I asked, nodding my head towards his typewriter even though he wasn't watching me. He answered me without looking up, as if he knew I had motioned towards the typewriter without actually seeing me do so. That was another thing that drove me mad about Dawai; he always knew about everything, and he didn't even have to be paying attention.

"Soon."

"When is soon?"

"Soon."

I giggled as I slid off the counter and wandered behind him, desperately wanting to rest my hands on his head and then my head on my hands. I wanted to be closer to him, to take in that aroma of his. It was gross, sure (a smell of sweat and dirt), but it was his smell.