His Colossal Mistake #justwriteit

Chapter 13

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain."

Chapt 13 drink;

Pop.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Pop....

Pop.

I wince when another shot echoes throughout the neighborhood. A nearby military base conducts exercises that requires fake shooting; and today is one of those days. The reminders of the war we are stuck in is anything but welcoming.

The early morning sun warms our bodies and I mentally wish the cold would return, if only to relieve the humidity.
Sevastyan and I run side by side down an unoccupied road and the humid morning causes me to sweat more than usual. On the other hand, Sevastyan hardly heaves a breath out of beat; and unlike me, he is dry. The lack of life on the street gives me goose bumps, and I almost trip over the cracks in the deserted road. I take it as my cue to walk.

Sevastyan could happily continue, but he remains by my side. The man is smart enough not to comment on my weak lungs. Instead, Sevastyan uses the privacy as an opportunity to question me.

"Does," he clears his throat. He hardly ever speaks, and I wonder if his voice is always gravely. "Does the government inform you of," he searches for the correct phrase, "things?"

Obviously.

"Yes, the community knows everything. The government trusts us," I explain to his shocked expression, "and we trust them. This is how honesty works. You will soon adopt the characteristic the longer you live here."

He seems satisfied by my assurance and we safely jog home.

After a nice shower, I slip on my scarf from downstairs and walk out the heavy door with Sevastyan trailing behind me.

"We are stopping by the Martial Arts Hall," I inform Sevastyan while skipping down the steps.

Turning onto the downtown road, we encounter the waves of people, and eye our destination warily. The construction workers were gone, but I could clearly spot the large Mahogany doors of the Martial Arts Hall.

I secure my gloves and courageously wrap my small hand around Sevastyan's large wrist, then I face the wrath of the crushing crowds. I do not think; I do.

We peel from the tight bodies and stumble into the safety of the building. The double doors conceals the chaos as we slam them close and are faced with silence. The only noise is the echo of my small heels as I lead Sevastyan to the second door on the right.

My eyes latch onto every crook and cranny to assure that everything was constructed properly. I will not allow mishaps to disrupt my studio.

"The building opens to the public in two days," I convey to Sevastyan and study the corner of the room.

There was a dent in the beam of the ceiling that was not there before. I spent enough time falling on my back in this studio to memorize every scratch on the beams. A metal tool must have hit the ceiling as the lights were fixed.

I briefly glare at the dip in the once smooth wood and sigh. I may be a perfectionist, but I realize that one small dent is not a flaw to fuss over. The rest of the room is perfect and I huff in defeat. I will have to live with the small mistake for the rest of my life.

"How do you like the crowds?" I smile at Sevastyan as we face the exit.

"There is no room for an apple to fall," he frowns and I laugh.

"Ready?" I say to myself. "Go."

--

We depart from the crowd with our clothes and appendages attached and stroll through the more civil parts.