The Characters
Aditya Das opened his door, struggling with his keys. His eyes were droopy; he’d been at volleyball training all day, and the sound of the balls hitting the court still rang in his ear.
In the corner of his eyes, he saw a truck stopping at the house to his left.
He dismissed it, almost entering his house; but the vehicle caught his eyes again. The words on its side were hazy in the small amount of light the streetlights provided, but he could see them. It was a moving van.
Another person to stay away from shouldn’t be a problem, but much to his dismay, a certain conversation with his coach from training earlier that day came to memory. He frowned, thinking about the event.
~ - ~
“Das, a word,” his coach called him, and he excused himself from the court before jogging up to his mentor.
“Yes, coach?” He wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Sit,” the coach signaled to the spot on the bench next to him, and Aditya sat down. Understanding what the coach meant, he looked onto the court, analyzing everything.
To say that he and his team were out of sync was an understatement. His spikers were unable to hit his tosses, and Aditya was growing more frustrated by the moment.
Now that Aditya looked at the court, he realized that things were going a lot smoother. He frowned, wondering what had changed.
“The setter,” the coach replied, reading Aditya’s mind. “A setter must know what his teammates need.”
Aditya held in a sigh. He knew where this conversation was going.
“A setter must know their state. How tired, how capable they are at the moment,” the couch threw Aditya’s sulking figure a sideways glance. “You must communicate. You can’t read their minds, or expect them to read yours, Das.”
~ - ~
Aditya Das was not a man of many words. He wasn’t a man of any words, actually, unless you were lucky.
He didn’t care about others. What others need, how others feel, how ‘tired’ or ‘capable’ they were. Didn’t he have enough to care about already?
Aditya started debating in his head, trying to convince himself that the coach was wrong.
Suppose you did pretend to care. Then, people would start expecting you to talk to them, to do favors and whatnot, and endless other crap that Aditya did very well without.
Aditya dropped his bag and stretched.
Another person to stay away from. Another person to not care about.
~ - ~
A girl struggled with a large box, which was, fortunately, one of her last ones.
She heaved, panting with the exertion she felt.
“How are chargers so heavy?” She checked the labels on the box, praying her old roommate didn’t mess them up.
She looked around. She’d already met some of her neighbours, and they were all kind to her. It was a quaint neighbourhood, and some of the houses were new, so a lot of them were empty.
Like the houses on both her sides, apparently; but the house to her right looked well kept.
Then again, no one ever came out or answered her there, so it was probably empty.
She squinted at her neighbouring house. Could an empty house look that neat?
Apparently, it could.
She shrugged, dragging the box inside.
She had already started decorating, and unpacking and had opened most of her boxes in the first week itself.
She grabbed her cutter, looking at the box and licking her lips in anticipation.
“Please let this be it,” she prayed, ripping the tape, and delicately holding the flaps. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them cautiously.
She gasped, gently pulling out a comparatively small device.
“There you are,” she turned the bluetooth speaker around in her arms, chuckling airily. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
She let out a relieved sigh, standing up and looking around. Her computer sat on her table.
Her deadline was nearing, and she had almost finished the artwork for her graphic novel.
As she looked at the keyboard in front of her, bitter, dizzying guilt burst into her chest; her eyes widened, and her breath quickened.
She hated this. She was happy just a minute ago; why did she have to be this way? Couldn’t she just not screw things up for herself for once?
Her vision blurred as her eyes started tearing up.
Why now? Why suddenly?
Her breath wasn't reaching her lungs anymore.
She reminded herself why she was there.
There was no reason for her to panic. Why are you still panicking then? She was good. She’d worked hard for this. You’re just telling yourself that for self-satisfaction.
"You’re okay. You’re going to finish it on time. You’re fine. You’re fine,’ she repeated, her words having little effect on her.
“I’m fine,” she said out loud this time, looking away from her laptop with a grunt, blinking her eyes rapidly and taking deep breaths. “I am fine, and I am going to make it this time.”
“I really need this money anyways,” she tried to laugh through her painful throat. “Can’t be broke and cute at the same time forever.”
She picked up her phone, sending her parents a text confirming that she had nearly finished unpacking. It was mostly an attempt to distract herself.
Looking up, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“I am going to make it this time."
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