Piña Colada

Throughout my childhood, my dad and I used to play this game where we brainstorm some ideas (most of them so silly that mom would eventually scold us for being psychotic) in which the world becomes a better place. One time, we divided the universe into two categories: The Pear Community, and the Piña Coladas.

People who belong to the Pear Community are totally normal. They live their life regularly, eat meals every day, and socialize with others on a daily basis. But dad used to joke about them, saying that they act like zombies (minus the brain-sucking, of course). Their emotions are stable. Too stable, actually, that they could substitute for zombies: blank, with faces as hard as stones.

The other sort, the one my dad proudly claimed that I belong in, is the 'Piña Coladas'. These people are rare. And, to some extent, dangerous. You won't be capable of identifying them just by looking at them. These people are highly complex. Mentally and Emotionally. They feel things with much more intensity, tending to magnify everything around them 10 times more than things really are.
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I was so little when my dad made this list. It had been long buried since he died. But now, as I pack my suitcase that will take me away from my bitter past, I realize that this theory, which my dad and I named: The Pear-Colada Theory, would be the most important gear I'd ever need. It's just a small, insignificant headstart, but I'll carry on with it, like a precious family heirloom that passed down to me. Over the years, I've made mistakes. Lots of them. And I need a chance to start over. But first, I'll require a well-planned scheme to get started.

Cover by the super-talented: @Letterbyowl