Intersecting Parallel Lines

Prolog • Prologo

Rain was flowing on the streets. Although this summer should be scorching, an unexpected rain still brought some chills of autumn.

It was darker than usual in the narrow alleys. Cars were rushing on the main avenues not far away, but between the low old houses there wasn't anyone. The rainstorm washed over the walls, carrying the foul smell of the garbage and the mud on the ground away.

A little shadow flashed across the alley and took a sudden turn into another. His leather shoes stamped in the water, the splashing mud stained his already drenched trouser legs. The gasps because of the lack of oxygen were immediately submerged by the downpour. The red color on his white shirt was almost washed away by the rain, but the smell of blood could still be scented. The boy sometimes turned his head and looked behind himself to make sure nobody was following him anymore. His sixth sense told him that those people had already given up, so he paralyzed, leant against the wall and slowly sat down in the water, covered his wound on the forearm and clenched his teeth. He hadn't slept for days now, so he tried to keep himself awake. After leaving home and living in the darkest sides of the city, his immature body couldn't endure the stress, both mentally and physically. The stretched strings in his heart were about to tear. But because of the tiredness, he'd finally fallen asleep in this stormy morning.

His silver hair glowed in the darkness.

At the same time, in a country with 7 hours time difference far in the east, hearty laughter broke out on the baseball field in the small town. "Home run! How cool!" Admiring voices rose from a group of children covered with dust, who were surrounding a boy with a broad smile on his face. His blue-white striped sport suit had gotten a golden color under the afterglow, even his beige eyes were reflecting that shine. Noticing that it wasn't early anymore, the children said good-bye to each-other and started heading home.

A drop of rain fell on his nose with a soft plop. Rain was pattering after a short time, drumming gentle on the streets and trees. It wasn't a heavy rain, but only a drizzle, with the feeling of an refreshing shower in the spring. Though the raindrops were so small they barely could be seen, they were still incessant, connecting the sky and the ground like gossamer.

The little boy didn't seem to care about his clothes, which were gradually getting wet out, he just went on walking really relaxed. People might think of a wrong age by regarding his back, with a height much taller than his contemporaries, but his childish face would have revealed his true age. Walking the way back home alone was boring indeed, especially for a active boy in this age. The sun-rain in the evening was very silent, and it wasn't noisy in the street on the weekend. He started to play with his black wristlet, by turning it around, forth and back. He got home earlier than he had realized. He lifted the door curtain while he was walking in the small restaurant that had been closed a few hours ago for the night because it was Sunday and felt lonely for some reason he couldn't tell. He noticed a note on the counter: Son, dad's out buying ingredients for next week, cook something for yourself, you don't have to wait for me.

I should've known he's out, the boy scratched his hair, went to the fridge and took out some vegetables he began to wash and cut. He made food for two people without even noticing it.

The tempest and mizzle in two totally different countries were like parallel lines that would never cross. But life had never been as rational as maths.

AN: English is not my mother tongue so I apologize for all the mistakes you might find!