HMMMmmm~
The city hummed—a chorus of engines, horns, and the tired lungs of people.
"HEY! Oye! Muévete!"
The angry voice bounced between the cars, the mans face twisting with impatience as he argued with the vehicle that cut him off.
BWAAAH!—the sound of a sharp siren wailed before cutting off just as quickly, some people snapped their necks while others ignored it all together.
They tried to scurry off, but there was no where to go. Everyone was stressed, frustrated, and frightened from the events that had have unfolded.
The sounds of the busy and noisy city rolled on, traveling far from the ground they stood on—climbing up in the buildings around, and up until it slipped through a half open window.
Tiiiing… tiiing… tiiiing… khrrhhhhh—
The air conditioning unit softly went off, alerting anyone was was paying attention to the change—A change that didn't reach anyone's ears.
whfshh~
The blankets rustled, gathering in a tangled heap near the headrest. Soft sighs of struggle slipped from beneath the mound of blankets, the quiet struggle paused for a moment then started again.
A series of quick but soft inhales followed suit, the heap rising and falling before—nn-chh!—the sneeze was meet with silence. The bed creaked softly as the heap stirred around when all of a sudden—a small head popped from the top.
Their eyes were drowsy, a blurry mess surrounded them while the blankets clung to their shoulder's. Their nose scrunching up at the smell of the city outside. Their eyes darted around the room—one that was illuminated in a soft and warm ambiance, for the most part.
Another sneeze rang throughout the room and the little figure pulled the blankets close to their body before shaking their head in defeat.
The blanket slid of their head when a bundle of dark blue with a hint of purple appeared from under the covers. Two little plumages of brown, almost black feathers peeked from the top of their head like wheat in a field.
The little figure rubber their eyes, regaining clarity—her hands hands pressed into the bed before she crawled forward. Her small feet found the floor—white and pink socks doing little to keep her feet warm.
A wildefowl plushie dangled from one hand, its white-and-brown fabric worn from age. Her steps were light, almost soundless to even herself.
Placing the plushie on the seat with delicate care, she picked up a stool with some difficulty while walking with it towards the air conditioning panel.
Once the stool was in place, she grabbed the plushie as she placed one knee on the seat—using the wall for support, once she was able to stand on the stool, her free hand stretching up for a button.
After—once, twice, and a few times more—retracting her hand, one that was covered in a band aids that stiffened her fingers.
With a small push, she sat down on the stool, balancing for a moment and sliding off with a quiet thump. A tiny happy sound escaped her lips, hopping back into her fortress of blankets and oversized stuffed beasts.
She burrowed herself deeper into the city of dreams with her plushie in tow, hugging it with all the strength her small body could give.
The fortress was warm but beyond their walls, the outside was cold, the noises from the outside passing through the thins walls of fiber. Her ears caught the patter of the rain starting to hit her window, the whistling of wind passing through the gap and the faint wail of sirens going off in the distance.
She closed her eyes as she laid on her side, breathing softly for what felt like minutes—time that felt too long.
Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned within her fort, only to catch herself staring at the wildefowl. Lifting it up, she made it stand up and swiveled its head, mimicking chirping sounds.
A few moments later, she laid it next to her while staring at its beady eyes—no matter how dark it got, her eyes would aways find their light.
She scratched her forearm for a few moments until a sharp sting shot through her spine. Her hand freezing mid-action. After a moment's hesitation, she raised her arm high in the air, her small silhouette casting a tower through the fort.
The faint shimmer caught her eye—brown, almost black masses etched along her forearm. She tapped it gently, twisting her arm as it's surface gleamed under the soft light.
"Kwi-niyum"
Stumbling over the word, her tongue chasing sounds that wouldn't come together no matter how hard she tried. Her mind jumping through hoops, trying again and again.
"Chi-ni-yum?"
The air conditioning barely doing its magic, forcing her to tug the blanket more, her little head peaking out from the once mighty fortress. She stared at the ceiling for some time before pushing the fortress aside, once her feet reached the ground—
She shuffled to a small desk, pulling the chair back and plopping herself with a soft thud. Within the same breath, her hand grabbed a sheet of paper, the corner starting to become damp from the rain slipping through the window gap.
Her feet swung freely beneath the chair, kicking at the air while the minutes flew by—time slipping away.
kchhk...
The sound of keys jingling reached her ears, rubbing her weary eyes. Two distinct voices bounced across the walls of her room.
The footsteps quickened as her ears picked up a door being closed—one particular word crossed her ears as she puffed up her cheeks, narrowing her eyes with mock offense.
She pressed the pencil harder against the paper, her legs continued swinging idly when the door to her room creaked opened—groaning like an alarm.
"Little Yan?"
A gentle voice called out, she answered with a small humf, letting go of the pencil before crossing her arms like a tiny lady.
The little girl glanced back over her shoulder, quickly swinging her head around, her hair flicking like a cape.
"Hah..." The woman sighed audibly, taking one step towards the center of the room. "Jie?"
"Mmhm!"
The little girl spun around with a radiant smile on her face, her round eyes sparkling with childlike smugness.
The woman's purple hair hung loose over her shoulders before she lifted the girl like a doll. Yan's expression went flat the moment she was caught under her arms, her limbs dangling limply while her cheeks puffed ever so slightly before turning her head away.
Yan looked at the woman, her mind already moving to something else.
"We're going to meet someone, okay?"
The woman set her on the bed and the little bundle of mischief bounced back to life. She moved towards a closet near the door, rummaging through clothes.
Yan continued bouncing on the bed before diving into her sea of blankets and stuffed beasts, a catastrophe in motion like the city around her—until, after some time, she surfaced triumphantly with her plushie clutched tight in her arms.
The woman pulled out an outfit, and with practiced ease, changed little Yan's clothes before she could even protest.
Little Yan now looked like a miniature adult—her chubby face full of seriousness with the plushie in hand. A small bow sat neatly beside one of her feathered tufts.
The woman smiled to herself before pulling out a bag from inside the closet, nearly at full capacity.
The door creaked, drawing both their gazes toward the entrance of the room. A man stood in the doorway, a tan cap pulled low over his dark hair.
His cheek looked bruise—or maybe that was just the cold. Her little mind churned hard, working in overdrive to decide which option to stick to.
"Uncle?"
The little girl leaned to one side as she stared harder, her mouth forming a light smile before face lit up.
"Uncle!"
She raised one hand in the air, the little hand receiving a high five while woman smiled with amusement in her eyes.
The man said nothing as he stepped into the room and grabbed the duffle bag, slinging it over both shoulders and slipping his arms through the straps.
WRAA—WRAA—!
The little girl ignored it, but the two adults shared a quick glance.
The woman reached down and took Yan's small hand. They stepped out into the living area, red and blue flashes already spilling through the glass.
Yan's face turned with worried before pressing herself closer to the woman. She felt her head being rubbed and glanced up to the woman's reassuring face, the lights painting her face with colors.
"Little Yan." The woman said softly.
"...why don't we eat something, okay?"
The little girl nodded and walked off toward the kitchen, conveniently set next to the living room.
"What is it?"
The man asked. The woman set her gaze on his head, studying him for a moment before stepping forward and plucking the cap right off.
His face came into view—slightly rough and worn, but still handsome enough to please the eye. He wore brown dress pants, the creases down both legs as sharp as ever.
Just like the rest of his attire.
"You look good."
Her voice was blunt, the man's face filling with a slight smile—until she spoke again.
"When you get rid of the cap."
"No one would notice."
She drew closer, her eyes flat on his, straightening the few wrinkles in his clothes. He met her gaze, then pushed her head away with his hand.
"How close was it this time."
Her voice was low but firm. He pressed his hand harder, managing to put some space between them.
"We'll be lucky if we can make it through the month, we're running out of money."
Yan's quiet munching filled the background. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small amber container, its white lid stark against the plastic body.
"Pain killers, for your head—since your mind is always up in the air."
He tapped the side of her head with it, the woman taking it after a moment, popping it open and tapping it against her hand.
Two pills slid out, popping them into her mouth before giving the bottle back, swallowing them dry.
"I don't if they have our faces recorded."
He grabbed the bottle back and slipped it into his pants. Hearing his concern, the woman kept her ears open in ponder.
"We only got into that mess because some fool couldn't his mouth shut."
His tone stayed quiet but rough, his green eyes unwavering while pointing toward the window, where the faint red, and blue lights still flashed.
"Then those folks came up, and made it worse."
His accent slipping through in the end through, his eyes and body movement beginning to show frustration. She could practically see his silhouette twisting with each movement he did.
"So tell me."
His eyes locking into hers.
"What will you do? You brough me here from Columbia, making me run errands."
His voice grew quieter at the end, but she said nothing, waiting for him to finish talking.
What is worth it? Helping the friends you made?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"Ye—"
"No kissing!"
Both turned toward the shout. Little Yan barreled toward them, hands covering her eyes with thin slits between her fingers. She wedged herself between them, using every ounce of her childlike strength to push them apart while huffing away.
She puffed up her cheeks like little balloons when she was picked up.
"Up we go."
She squealed, grabbing onto his head while her little legs stiffened.
The woman kept a finger pressed on her lips—the same smile drawn across her face.
He closed his eyes for just a second, then pressed on. On the way to the door, he stopped by the kitchen, grabbed the plushie from the table, and handing it to little Yan.
Click.
He turned around to find the woman putting on her glasses, the thin frame catching the light around her eyes.
The man inhaled dryly and stepped into the hallway.
"You look worse wearing the glasses."
She fought the sudden urge to punch him in the stomach.
The woman joined them outside after a short pause, pulling the door shut behind her and twisting the knob to make sure it was locked.
Walking down the corridor, their footsteps echoed. After a few minutes, they found the elevator in the center of the floor. She pressed the button, the doors sliding open after a moment.
Once inside, they pressed the ground floor button, the doors sliding closed when a chime played—the elevator descending floor by floor.
The doors opened, revealing a lobby filled with people whose faces carried an abundance of expressions—some worried, others frustrated, and some simply fed up.
They said nothing while moving through the sea of people, snippets of conversation brushing past.
"Mira, que ya se pasaron. I bet you they'll close that one off too."
After a few more steps, they crossed the front doors—the cold air hitting them harshly, the roar of the street surging into their ears like a wave. The woman looked up on his shoulders, where she watched Yan's eyes dancing around.
The little girl's ear's caught every sound, every tone coming from the street, the concrete sidewalk calm compared to the rest if the city.
They turned right, the people below looking small to her from her height—some dressed well, others worse for wear.
But every so often—no, more often than not—uniforms watched and moved through the crowds. The man's hand around her legs kept her steady while Yan's eyes wandered over the bright city lights.
They moved with the current for what felt like forever. Each step from the man sent tiny tremors through her body, looking at everything the city had to offer.
Then she noticed a figure forcing its way against the current, bodies shoved aside as it headed straight for them. Voices flared and died—curses snapping as people stumbled out of the way. She made a small sound and tapped the man's head, pointing at the oncoming figure.
Her eyes darted farther back, finding three more figures moving quickly—the crowd shifting out of their way, some looking back.
The woman stuck closer to the man, grabbing his arm while she kept her eyes fixed ahead.
They edged closer to the street, steering out of the way. Flashing lights suddenly flickering a few meters ahead. For a second, Yan could have sworn someone's gaze met hers.
The first figure stumbled suddenly, falling forward—right at the woman's feet. She lifted one foot instinctively.
She stepped back quickly, pulling them both in a single motion.
The fall caused a scene, heads turning while a few conversations stopped. The person laid sprawled on the sidewalk, their shabby clothes distinct from the rest of the crowd.
The man lay still for less than a second before pushing an arm beneath himself, lifting his body with visible effort.
He glanced up with famished, tired eyes, full of desperation and bowing his head—covering his mouth with one hand and coughing harshly.
The man looked up once more, some of them getting a better look at his face. His eyes were cloudy and hazy. But this man had the very same little crystal brown masses on one cheek—clinging just beneath one eye.
"Help me...tell them I'm with you!—Anyone!"
He looked toward them, his voice cracking. He glanced around and tried to stand, but his legs failed him and he dropped again. Murmurs rippled outward while the uniformed people closed in.
The uniforms were practically atop him, glancing back and using his legs and arms to push himself forward.
Panic flaring in his eyes, then crawled forward with desperation—using his elbows and knees to drag himself away until he finally lifted himself up.
The uniforms shoved bystanders aside, one of them aiming with a compact device—something similar to a crossbow but smaller.
PFFT!
The man at the center of the crowd stumbled down, his legs bound tightly by a thin cord that barely caught the light.
The trapped man yanked and clawed, trying to free himself from the weighted cord. The crowd was a mix of everything—some backing away while others raised their phones or wrists to record.
The man's pleas broke through it all, his voice ragged with vice.
"Let me go!"
One of the uniforms forced his head down, pressing hard until his cheek flattened against the ground. The man's face flushing red with struggle, managing to plant one arm.
One of them yanked his hand away—his chest hitting the ground hard. The others hauled his arm from his body, and one produced a baton-like device, jabbing it into his back while the rest let go for but a moment.
"Gyah!"
The man's body went rigid when the baton flared, spasms shooting up from his torso, white sparks scattering from its tip. The uniforms shoved back anyone who got too close, barking orders.
The three of them didn't wait to see how it ended. They slipped sideways through the sea of bodies, weaving out of the crowd with difficulty.
Little Yan twisted her body, looking over her shoulder, still holding the plushie with one hand. She caught sight of the scene—one uniformed feline seizing his wrists and forcing them together before fastening something around them, while the others lifted his limp body off the ground.
"Why?"
She leaned forward, her head almost almost bumping into the man's face—her weight resting on his head, her eyes searching for an answer.
"Why what?"
He answered, encouraging her to finish her question. Her gaze pondered before opening her mouth.
"Why are they beating him?"
Her eyes full of curiosity.
"He must've done something wrong."
The woman responded quietly this time, reaching for little Yan's nose and giving it a playful shake. The little girl scrunched her face and pulled away, an annoyed huff escaping her lips.
"He was scared."
Her voice pouted—small and stubborn, her gaze dancing anywhere but the ground. Neither of them said anything else, keeping their thoughts to themselves.
The three of continued down their way, the scene behind them shrinking until she could no longer see the commotion. Only the flashing lights remained, bouncing off the walls and storefronts.
The busy street already swallowing the moment whole, the traffic seemingly getting worse—the cars virtually right on top of each other.
As little Yan turned her gaze up, her eyes caught the giant screens clinging to the sides of the high-rises ahead, glowing between the gaps of the buildings.
As they reached an intersection, the woman and the man spoke quietly while she watched the screen across the street, resting her weight on the man's head.
"Stretching our legs was the right call. Too much traffic."
The woman answered with a soft hum, lifting her free wrist and a dim screen appeared—lightly illuminating her face, dragging her finger the air across while trying to call someone.
On the screen ahead, a crowd filled a street somewhere else in the city—a sea of bodies moving together, signs dotted throughout, patches of people lit up by shifting light. A few figures at the front seemed to be leading them onward.
Her bracelet rang for several seconds—brrt—brrt—brrt!—the voicemail picking up, a short message playing right when she ended the call.
Brrt—brrt—brrt!
Still nothing.
She breathed sharply through her nose and lowered her wrist, the faint screen fading. A few minutes later, little Yan pointed toward a small café—her eyes locking onto the window display, where rows of sweet buns gleamed under warm light, calling her name.
"Concha!"
"Do you want some?"
The man asked, bouncing slightly to keep her from slipping off his shoulders.
Little Yan bobbed her head enthusiastically, nodding along happily while the trio changed course. A few steps later, the woman grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, a wave of sweetness wafting toward them.
As their eyes scanned the inside, it was filled with an abundance of people—their features in plain view for all to see, not even paying attention to the city around them, their voices overlapping one another.
The door swung shut behind them with a soft chime.
They walked up to the short line—the different dialects drifting past their ears while the line slowly but surely disappeared.
Yan's little nose wrinkled when she drew in a long, happy inhale, exaggerating the motion when she exhaled through her mouth. Lifting her plushie, holding it up to mimic her. The stuffed beady eyes reflected the warm light.
"Hello! cuál es su pedido?"
She was short—the barista that is, her hair tied into a neat ponytail.
"You have any liberica?"
The woman asked, looking at the roast list on the counter through her glasses. The feline bent down, her knees popping lightly when she checked under the counter.
"oomás ono."
"Just for one more."
The young woman repeated, with a small smile wile her canine ears twitched. The barista's tail swaying lazily behind her.
"Three sugar and two cream please."
She pushed her glasses up from the edge of the rim while the girl noted the order down, then turning her attention to the duo.
"Black, two sugar, two cream, and tw—"
"Concha!"
Little Yan blurted out with gusto. Her ears flushing from a few patrons who turned to glance over.
They finished ordering, and the man tapped his phone against the terminal to pay.
[Procesando…]
The word flashed briefly before the receipt printed out. The feline handing it over with a polite nod, then moved to prepare the drinks.
By the time the woman picked up the slip, little Yan was already happily nibbling at her sweet bread.
The trio made their way to a small table on a corner. The man lifted Yan off his shoulders and onto her seat, then settling beside her while they waited for their order.
The woman, seated down—rested her elbow on the table as she lifted her wrist, already trying to call again.
.
.
.
only for the lights all around them to turn off after a few flickers, the floating screen above the bracelet providing them a guiding light.