Inkling | rejected & unpublished short stories

The Ruler Effect

t h e  r u l e r  e f f e c t

4914 miles

Big scales on a ruler will never be the reason a ruler breaks.

            I was making peace with the fact that that we were stuck and numbers could do nothing more than lengthen the strings that attach us. The strings did not only attach us, but we were tangled in it. The white strings, some dipped in dye and time, enclose us in its embrace, stretchable and stronger than spider silk. Last time I checked, I was only twirling the strings around my finger for play. "I'll just tear it off later," I had said. The next thing I know my whole being was walled by the strings, attached to Hoot, the person who said womanhood of a girl was measured by how willing she is to give chance to an opinion that is not hers. The person who went out in a ratty purple shirt to send me ice cream in the middle of a winter afternoon.

            Hoot smiled, in my head. I hugged my knees close to my collarbones beside the blinded windows. I smiled, knowing he was somewhere 4914 miles away, trotting in his happy daily routine. I smiled, knowing that there was one person in the world who was thousands of miles away and misses me, who is probably at a car window or a room window, thinking about me in another country, hoping that I had a blastful day full of roses and confetti. Probably hoping that I miss them back too.

            I smiled wider, knowing that someone in the world was staring at his phone to wait for a stray notification from me. Someone who makes exception for no one but me. It was not possessiveness, it was just that sugary feeling—like having a clump of caramel in your mouth—of being more than a person to someone.

            It was the niceness of trust. Of knowing if Hoot found another object of spurring motivation that is not me, I would not believe it. Whatever Hoot did back home, it will always be good to me. I would always have a positive light to look at it. That was what 4914 miles could do to you.

            My fingers automatically strike up to catch a teardrop from drizzling down from my chin. The faint, nostalgic tune the restaurant played became louder as the crowd of tourists in the middle table left.

            "It's the music," I nodded my head at the excuse.

2457 miles

            The crowd roared as I bowed. Flashes of light everywhere as I straightened my head again, tightening my Taekwondo belt in shyness. A small girl from a small town, standing on the podium proudly. That was how they saw me. How I saw myself was—a girl who was grinning so hard because she was going to meet Hoot soon, the person who proudly albeit randomly screamed to strangers at the streets that I was his girl after he heard the news.

            I grinned so wide it hurt my cheeks. Then I felt wetness in my eyes.

            "It's the happiness."

2104 miles

            "Why won't you pick up?" I screeched at the phone. The metal of the phone dug my sweaty palms as I kicked the wall. My toe stubbed but I went inside with less anger. I was worried, mad, scared, furious, all synonyms thrown in the potion. The last time Hoot was online was five hours ago and it was broad daylight already. I just wanted to keep in touch.

            I muttered under my breath as I loaded a glass with cold water. Still muttering, I pulled a roll of tissue and grabbed a pen from the can of random things beside the sink. I started jotting down.