The Foreigner

JUNE FIRST

The fog crept throughout the valley. I felt free when I looked out into the vastness of the forest. But even though my mind felt free, I was forced to admit the truth to myself when my eyes caught the tall white gates that surrounded my people and I inside. I looked at the lady in front of my seat. The air was cool inside the metro, but I could tell that her body had not yet let go of the heat it had trapped inside, from the hot and humid air found in summer. She looked up at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back to be polite and then continued to look out the window. The view was the same every day, as the metro took us to and back from the Constitute. I took a deep breath in, and exhaled; trying to avoid the endless dreams my mind always came up with, but it was too late. I was already wondering about what lived on the outside of the gates. My friends never talked about it, so I kept quiet as well. I guess in a way we all did, to make ourselves feel better. 

The metro came to a slow stop. I wasn't ready to face the humidity of the air, and neither were the rest of the people around me. They sluggishly carried their bags and briefcases out the door, dragging them behind the slow pace of their feet. I waited until most people were through and out of the metro, then lifted myself up from the comfortable cashmere seats I always looked forward to sitting in. Making my way through the patiently waiting set of doors, I noticed the sunset had already passed, and the sky was left with a darker baby blue, a hint of gold still glowing. The stars hadn't yet shown themselves and I was disappointed because I would have to walk home with nothing interesting to count. I enjoyed counting the stars, just because it was impossible to stop. All I had to really do was look away for a slight second and then I would begin to count all over again, until I came to the faded red bricks that gave my home a name. I walked through the chaos of the metro station, watching people as they placed their index fingers on the small screens that were placed on the worn beige walls that stood before the gate that separated the anxious crowd and the silver metro. I hated doing that every day. We all had our finger prints read when we were born. They were now managed in a computer system. Whenever someone in the sector wanted to purchase food, books, clothing, or anything else, we were to place our index finger on the screen for it to read your identity, and then at the end of the year you get a bill sent to your home. The bill was usually horrifying to look at, and most people –like my mother –could not get themselves to finish reading the long list of debt they had gotten themselves into. I remember last year my father had hid the stack of heavy folded papers in my room, under my bed for an entire month, so that my mother wouldn't have another anxiety attack. I didn't know how he was planning to pay all those numbers off, but it didn't matter because my mother found it anyways and is still sending off checks, one by one.

"Zara!" I heard my name being called from behind me, as I continued on my way home. I turned around, still managing to walk backwards slowly.

"I didn't see you this morning." I wasn't surprised to see Imani there. His face was paler than usual today, and he had beads of sweat rolling down his neck and clinging to the edge of his collared shirt.

"I know I'm sorry. I got caught up with"-

"Work?" Imani had cut me off, which wasn't unusual for him to do, when something was angering his restless mind.

"Something like that," I paused waiting to see if he would say anything else, giving me time to think of a better excuse to having ditched our plans to get breakfast this morning.

He let out a purposefully loud enough sigh for me to hear. "I know you were at the Constitute, today." His eyes didn't meet mine, as he waited for an answer. He was angry at me again, and probably disappointed.

"Imani, I have to go." I began to walk towards the direction of my house, and Imani decided to come along.

We remained silent for a while, and I relied on the sound of our shoes clicking on the cement street, to make this situation a little less uncomfortable. Finally, we came to the bricks that made my house stand out. All the other homes were nicer than ours, and they had assigned us one that was ready to fall to pieces by the slightest push of the wind.