Long Nights

[2] banaag

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2. banaag
— a glimpse, a faint mainfestation,
or a glimmer of light.

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8:14 p.m. NIGHT #2.

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NOAH

"Kanpai!" The men on the sidewalk of Shibuya Street exclaimed as soon as I walked past them, raising their glasses of beer. Despite it being a Tuesday night, I didn't find the situation all too glaring. The dark evening was indeed fit for deep conversations and warm liquor running down one's throat.

Sooner or later, they would be intoxicated with nothing left but the raw, honest truth that vigorously ached to spill from their lips. For if there is one thing I've learnt from my Aunt Nova, it was the fact that people who drink were most likely people who'd want to forget — those whose problems could not be solved with a single night of drowning in tears.

And so, they'd drown themselves in alcohol.

The obnoxiously loud laughter from the men could still be heard even when I had rounded the corner of the street. It was far different from the cheery, genuine, high-pitched laugh of my mother's, but I shake my head before I could dwell on her memory. Cars passed by the road in ominous flicker, their tail lights similar to those of a shooting star.

With a deep inhale of the salty evening air, I proceeded to keep walking down that specific curb, with nothing but a few wrinkled bills and silver coins in my pocket. The faded blue sweater that I wore seemingly protected me from the sharpness of the breeze, yet it still made my cheeks feel like ice.

It didn't matter though.

Curb after curb, shops aligned in a series of bright lights — like star-shaped markings and constellations that spread across the inky night sky. Its large windows were clean, without a single speck as to draw potential clients who stared in awe at the products displayed inside the store.

But what caught my attention the most was the flitting image of a young girl from a distant memory, buried deep into the dark crevices of my mind. The image — to my surprise — reflected on the large window of a nearby shop, like a vintage painting or an old photograph taken from before.

I stopped in my tracks and blinked furiously.

About a second soon, the image was gone with a snap of my eyes. There are moments like this when I would feel the burning sensation in my stomach again, the need to let out the sickening feeling.

I'm not losing my mind. I told myself. I'm perfectly fine.

But then as I started to take a few more preceding steps, the image became clearer. She was a real-life figure, her skin pale and dull-looking, but her eyes were sharp and as dark as the night sky.

Mesmerized, I decided to walk faster, following the girl who twirled across the glass windows, gracefully dancing like a flying swan. Her faintly-colored dress whirled in motion with her every turn, and by the time I had found myself in front of a particular convenience store, she had vanished into thin air.

Everything stood still. The magic snapped and withdrew before me, making me shudder from the spell.

"I'm losing my mind." I confirmed in a mutter before glancing at my wrist watch. It was past eight in the evening.

With a sigh, I stepped inside the small-scale convenience store with a low grumble vibrating from my stomach. The nausea had been replaced with hunger. Thankfully.