The drizzle brought me a sudden rush of emotional force which left a mixed sting of strange yet familiar feeling.

I cannot call it déjà vu. I cannot even think of anything that could perhaps describe it except that it lingered on no matter how I tried to brush it off and forget.

The coffee was not enough. The Marlboro Lights was also useless. And then there was Karen Carpenter who was so irritating that I really wanted to scream. But I cannot scream inside this office but inside me.

I was screaming for no known reason. I cannot tell if I was angry. I have built this dense resistance wall that nothing can push me into becoming angry anymore. My fever had subsided and I was practically feeling well except for my clogged nose and the itchy throat.

I want to talk to Athan but he needs his space. And I need to work. Well, my apartment is supposed to be my place. But he has owned the place now just as how he has owned me. In that way, I also owned him. I asked him to come to the office with me but he opted to stay.

Before leaving, I checked my pocket and found several coins and realized I already spent the last few hundred I borrowed from Athan. Sensing that something was wrong, he picked his black fake Girbaud wallet from the drawer and pulled another hundred and gave it to me.

The other day, he paid for the electric bill. The other night, he paid for our dinner. Well, at least, his money is not fake.

I left him while he was picking up litters, cleaning up our room. Something that we both hate to do but end up doing anyway or we all know what happens. Last night, while he was running through his accounting subject, I swept the floor and dusted off hairs, including some pubic hairs.

I asked Athan if he knows anything about aphasia. His eye balls rolled and went on to mumble to himself something while skillfully punching the calculator. Last week, Athan arrived home looking really devastated and told me he did not pass his major exam.

At 18, he still throws tantrums and I am always the sponge, taking all the negative energies. He was beyond control. He was worried about his major subject and at the same time complained about his hair that, according to him, distracted his concentration. And he hated me for suggesting that he grows his hair long.

I already told him about having a strong attraction to long-haired and bald men and those who are ruggedly handsome. But he did not care. And I don’t care about long-haired and bald men anymore. I have Athan and he is over the top. What can I ask for?

I thought he was already pacified after we had sex. I was wrong. He was temporarily pacified by the sex. The morning after, he took his bath, wore the blue uniform I ironed for him, snubbed the food I cooked for him, and sped off without saying thank you.

My phone trilled. It was my mom. Asking for money.