As she stood there in the alley, her heart raced with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Turning her head towards the bum, she noticed that he had produced another coin in his palm, its silver surface seemingly imbued with secrets and possibilities. He nodded and tossed it towards her. She caught it this time, and with one swift motion, she hurled it towards the brick wall.

The air seemed to ripple as the coin connected with the wall, and the world around her wavered for a split second. But when her surroundings stabilized, she returned to her luxurious penthouse apartment. The scent of opulence filled the air, and the glittering cityscape lay before her.

"Who is there?" Felicia thought. The ability to transform thoughts into sentences seemed to be stopped by an obstruction in her throat.

She realized she was parched.

There is a smell. Chemical, aseptic, mingled with... blood?

"What happened?" Another unspoken thought.

Suddenly, as if they were there all along, several distinct yet unified voices penetrated her skull.

"Don't fight it," the voices said, then they fell away into individual chatters.

"You wanna bet she won't make it?" a creaky voice. Scrapping with a metallic quality. Unfamiliar to her. Loneliness. Felicia identified the sensation jabbing at her chest.

"My dear, don't fight it; let them do their thing." Gentleness in this one. A calming caress on her forearm and a refreshing feeling flowed into her. Felicia wanted to lean into it. She doesn't know what she is supposed to be letting go of, but she can get on board with this gentle sound.

"Do you want to remember?" the gentle voice again.

"Who are you?" Felicia asked.

"It's better that you don't know us." A high-pitched voice ended with a giggle.

"OUCH!" A sudden, visceral pain churned in her navel area, and she cried out.

"You need to detach, then you can see." The gentle voice said.

"DETACH! DE-TACH!" The voices started chanting.

Suddenly there is light.

Another year has come and gone. Hakim did not observe any significant change when looking at himself in the mirror. The ageing body in plain sight, without the armour of the crisp uniform holding its shape, was here to stay. He chuckled, causing his belly to tremble. Patting himself, he cast a glance at the raised figure in the bed. The wife told him she'd be sleeping early tonight. They are not ones to join in the festivities.

Slowly, Hakim lowered himself on his side of the bed so as not to disturb her. He can hear the muffled music of partying through the walls, maybe a few doors down? Or from the floor above? It's unbelievable how people here can be so carefree, flaunting their defiance in the face of advice from the officials. If this was back home...

No. Home is here now. Freedom of expression, freedom of actions, freedom of thoughts. They just need to keep their heads down, straddling the cracks between the social majority and their own life. Mindful not to do anything to jeopardize the citizenship application in a few years. Then, only then, can they breathe a sigh of relief."

A buttoned-down white shirt, navy pleated skirt, and black loafers. That was our uniform. Some looked great in it; some seemed to disappear. Back in those days, I did not pay too much attention. I suspect I probably fell somewhere in the middle, not an incredible beauty, neither the most popular nor the most ostracized.

If the memory is a bit hazy, it's because it was not a life-changing moment. It is just a memory that sometimes surfaces and waves from the misty past. I have yet to connect this memory to any particular emotion.

The recess bell had just rung. Lily and I were about to join the other students in the field. We passed by Mr. Larry's desk. We had just gotten our quizzes back, and we both scored the highest mark in the class. Mr. Larry stopped us on our way out, gently said, "Can you guys come and massage my shoulders for me?"

What an honor to be close to the teacher? We each took one side, rhythmically, our fists percussed his broad shoulders. Standing over him, I can see the lines of his well-combed hair. I watched the other kids out in the sun and wished I did not have to share this duty with Lily. This means Mr. Larry doesn't think I was the best student, but only equally as good as Lily. Yes, we were best friends, but competition made up part of our friendship.