Joe’s weirdness, even if sickening, was a beacon. A beacon of doing what your heart truly feels, regardless of the forces threatening to change your ways.

But that wasn’t his road. Arthur, by fate, always saw himself connected to the mysteries that life and the stars offered. Now filled with joy from the recent mail, such energy had to go somewhere. No thought was needed. Only action.

Like a frog, the man leapt onto his wardrobe, shifting into regular pyjamas that struck a brown colour. Baring a content gaze at the mirror, the young man skipped downstairs with untamed zeal. Naturally, his mother couldn’t help but ponder–

Is Arty Bey blading down the stairs?

BOOM! 

It’d feel like the house shook. Arthur’s feet find an explosive landing on the slightly crooked floor. Then his mother came rushing into the corridor. 

“You’re practising some new wrestling moves too, Arty?!”

Her son stayed silent, a black shadow obscuring his face. 

Only one feature was discernible. 

That slanted, sneaky grin. The shine of teeth marked fulfilment and confidence. 

“Nope. Something greater.”

Arthur’s hand reached for his hips, his grin widening. Silence then enters the fray between the two. The man believed his mother already knew.

But…well, it overstays its welcome. Arthur’s smile is broken into doom, his shoulders drooping.

Aah mother…you can be so forgetful. 

“The Scientific Life Dispute Organisation, mother! The induction is soon!”

A loud clap resounds from her. 

“Oh my Olympus! I’m so proud of you, my baby boy! We’re going to enjoy a great meal tonight!”

That was true, alright! Hands buzzed in anticipation to finish dinner. Strolling to the kitchen, Arthur started preparing the meat, applying the spices he had bought at the Ferissa Market Square a few months ago. They hailed from Constinia, the neighbouring nation to Ferissa. Supposedly hailing from a mythical forest called The Veil.

So, of course, botanists decided to name them Veil Spices. To Arthur, it seemed somewhat mysterious and imposing. From what he had heard, Stride Energy caused a sort of mutation in the plants. Sadly, it's just a baseless rumour, not rooted in a blot of fact.

Besides that, they were his mother’s favourite! Arthur couldn’t say he disliked or didn’t favour them either. Among spices, these were top-notch.

His mother started by cutting up lettuce, tomato, peppers, and garlic. The jitteriness is evident in each slice that sunders each vegetable. A bead of sweat slid down her lighter brown skin, her hinged brows betraying any distraction that beckons to creep on her shoulder. 

Arthur’s mother, despite her quirkiness, wanted to make sure her son was proud of her. 

After all, being part of the Stein bloodline felt like tons of bricks were upon her. Just for it to be uplifted by her very son. 

. . .

Squelch!

Blood is drawn from her finger accidentally. But she didn’t let out a single grimace. She could only take the pain and press on. 

Chop chop chop!

Like a machine, she wouldn’t stop. The audio sounds like a drumstick smacking a drum rhythmically. Regardless of her lack of expertise, it didn’t ward off the pure joy that was felt in her chest.

“I’m so happy, Arthur.”

“I’m glad to hear tha-” 

A tear falls. Her breaths rise and fall like mountains. 

Her shoulders twitch.

“Mother!-”

Arthur rushes over to her side, standing slightly above as his hand is placed on her arm gently. Then he recognises the cut, his mouth snapping open. 

“...Your finger-”

“It’s okay Arty. I’m just glad. Glad that you’re here. To see you strive, push yourself, even with everything that has happened.”

Her pursed lips know what to say in betwixt the rain of emotions. 

It was only a matter of conveying it clearly. 

But there lay sa tare in Arthur’s gaze. One who communicated he didn’t care how she’d convey her emotions. 

She was his mother. And he, her son. 

“You’re an inspiration, Arthur. You will become a great Stride-engineer thingy!”

“Mother. . .” he’d say, moving closer and wrapping his arms around her. 

Maybe it’s a bit egotistical. A bit ‘boastful’. That he, the son, is an inspiration to his parent. But it made him happy. 

“. . .I wouldn’t be here without you. You gave so much support, hope, and guidance in dark times.”

She may not be the smartest, the most prepared, or organised. In spite of this, one fact couldn’t be denied. A coded feeling that is forever present.  

“I love you, mother.”