Dan woke up feeling like someone had stuffed his skull with gravel, sand and wet cement. His neck ached, his eyes burned with vengeance, his tongue tasted like chalk powder and bitter medicine, and his ears buzzed as if someone had turned on the mixer grinder near them all night. The sunlight dripping through the blinds was too bright, too cheerful, its glare hurt his eyes—dark circles under them had become more pronounced. The world was definitely mocking him for surviving another night with insomnia by unleashing its bright sunshine to cause a stinging pain under his eyes, it hurt so much that he felt that someone was burning red chilli peppers under them.
He turned his head toward the pillow that betrayed him like a novice traitor on the first day of its job. The words printed on its silk tag 'Heavenly Pillow' further ignited the flames of his fury. 'Sleep like an angel.' the packaging had promised in bold letters but far from waking up renewed, he had woken up more angry than a tiger poked with a stick.
He hadn't slept. Not even a wink. He'd twisted, turned, flipped the damn thing over seven times— under his head, over his face, leaning sideways, and in the vertical position, but no matter which side he tried, it felt like lying on a sack full of bricks that reeked faintly of factory glue.
Dan glared at it like it was an enemy, muttering, "You take people to the lowest level of hell, certainly heaven is not your final destination."
From the other room came the unmistakable sound of Gary's laughter, he was laughing at an old video of dog smoking a cigarette, and ignoring its owner. Dan assumed that his roommate had snuck a peek in the morning, and was therefore laughing at his misfortune.
Of course Gary was already awake by 4. The man had an internal alarm clock, he slept at 8 p.m. and was always up by four. He went into the land of dreams like a rock and woke up like a cheerful saint who had a wonderful dream. Dan dragged himself out of bed, his joints cracked in protest, the cold floor jolted him awake, in frustration he threw the pillow ono the floor.
After the usual morning business was over, Dan walked out of the washroom.
The living room was already alive with the smell of instant coffee wafting in the room. Gary sat cross-legged on the couch, his hair a tangle of mess but his grin intact. He looked up the moment Dan emerged from the washroom.
"His highness has emerged from heaven" Gary said with a grin. "My Lord your dark circles are more prominent today. Its look like you partied in heaven all night."
"Don't just don't. Shut up for once in your life." Dan muttered.
Gary smirked. "So? How was the heavenly pillow? Did it offer you a divine rest? You certainly look like a man who had a good night's sleep."
Ignoring his roommate, Dan walked to the kitchen counter grabbed the coffee pot, and poured himself a full mug, filling it upto the brim. "I was up all night. I didn't sleep until 3 a.m."
"Really?" Gary widened his eyes in mock disbelief. "And here I was thinking you just enjoy showing off the raccoon look."
Dan ignored his jabs, focused on the blend, and took a sip — the coffee was too bitter like a grandma who worked like a slave during her childhood. Right now cappuccino was the poison he definitely needed to wake him up, and recharge his mind.
Gary leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms and legs. "That pillow was supposed to be your miracle cure, wasn't it supposed to be a panacea. What was the line again? 'Gurantees eight hour of sleep.' That assurance just smacked you in the face boy."
Dan's eyelid twitched. "More like countless hours of torture beyond endurance."
Gary laughed. "Idiot you should've realized the truth the moment you saw it. Anything that calls itself heavenly usually isn't."
"Thanks scholar for clearing up the fog of idiocy in my mind."
"No, I need to enlighten you more. First it was the heavenly pillow, next you might buy a divine mattress. Then taking it further you might buy land on the moon. If this goes on in time you might even raise a scammer's standard of living on your own."
Dan slammed the mug down harder than expected, splashes of piping hot coffee fell on his fingers. "Can you just stop talking. I'm feeling quite upset. You words are causing me great discomfort."
Gary blinked, feigning innocence. "What I was just stating facts. Can't I have a little fun in the morning?"
"You call that fun? You words are dripping with sarcasm, there's a great venom in your words, you damn sadist."
Gary grinned wider. "If you didn't want commentary, you shouldn't have shown up looking like a roadkill, revived by multiple lightning bolts."
Dan shot him a death glare. If looks could kill, Gary would be a cadaver by now. "I swear one of these days, I might teach you a lesson—
Gary lifted a finger. "By smothering me with your heavenly pillow?"
That did it. Gary had gone too far. Dan grabbed his wallet off the counter. "I'm done with you. I need a break from this prison like atmosphere."
"Where are you going? You're half-naked, and not the good kind, your family pack is quite visible."
"Good." Dan snapped pulling the door open. "At least I ain't all skin and bones. And maybe the cold will do me a favour, bypass the defence of my flesh, kill me before your voice does."
"Don't forget about our bet. You have to wash the dishes for a week." Gary hollered.
The door slammed.
The early morning air was brutally crisp, gently caressing everything in its path. The sky was bright, the kind of pallid yellow that provides absolutely no warmth. The wind slashed across Dan's bare chest making his skin prickle instantly. His breath came out in small visible clouds.
He was wearing nothing but old shorts, the kind that allows cool air to tickle your privates. No shirt, no shoes, feet covered by socks. His body shivered with every gust of wind, but he kept walking like a man on mission, jaw tight, refusing to go back to that hellhole.
The street was almost empty, people had vanished, stray cats took a break, and the birds had migrated to distant shores— just the distant sound of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog broke through the spell of silence. The world felt muted, like it was holding its breath.
Dan's footsteps slapped against the cold pavement. He could still hear Gary's sarcastic voice in his head, that teasing tone looped like a bad song in his conscious thoughts. "Guaranteed eight hours of sleep."
He snorted bitterly, "Eight hours of sleep, what a scam."
Thinking about these things he didn't realize that the corner shop came into view — a tiny convenience store glowing faintly against the fake morning. The buzzing nen sign above it read: SUPER MART. The 'U' was flickering on and off. It looked as conked out as Dan felt.
He hesitated outside for a moment, rubbing his arms for warmth. The chill was starting to bite deeper now, sneaking into his bones, shivering he furiously rubbed his palms together to generate heat. Finally after using the inner surface of his hands to provide warmth to his face, he pushed the door open.
A soft jingle sounded, followed by a blast of warm, recycled air. The interior smelled of stale bread, instant noodles, cleaning detergent, and cheap perfume.
Dan let out a show exhale in relief. It was warmer here — fluorescent lights lit up the dark blue walls, red floor, and orange counter. The interior design of the store was quite ugly, clearly the owner had unique tastes, but all things considered the store was mercifully warm.
Behind the counter, a teenage girl with dyed pink hair, sported a white hoodie, oversized red heaphones covered her ears and she was chewing gum like she was angry at it. She didn't look up to greet the customer even after he had entered the store.
Dan wandered down one aisle, then another, without an aim at first — he was here to pass the time, anything to delay returning to that den of sarcasm, haunted by Gary's mouth. Outside was no better, the sunlight did little damage to the freezing supremacy of the cold. His bare torso earned a few raised eyebrows from other early customers: an old man shopping for cigarettes, a construction worker searching for protection, and a single mom with a stroller who gave him flirtatious glances.
He ignored them all, paid attention to the products, read the detailed information written on the back, put them back where they originally were and went to the small corner near the refrigerator, inside were his favourite drinks that he wouldn't dare to buy, present circumstances held him back from making this delightful purchase. Focusing his attention away from the beverages, he noticed a half-empty rack labelled 'Discounted Apparel'
He stared.
There was only one t-shirt left.
Bright. Glittering. Pink.
The kind of color that screamed to everyone in the near distance that he still played with pretty, gorgeous and expensive dolls.
Across its chest, written in glittering white letters were the words: ENDING LIFE IS GOOD CHOICE
Dan blinked at it in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. I can't wear that shirt out in the open, it might draw out the angry crowd."
He picked it up. The fabric shimmered under the store lights like the extra colored surface of strawberry ice-cream. It was nauseating, loud and offensive to his eyes. But it was also the only upper bodywear there that he could find— and even though the store was warm, he was still bothered by the cold.
He walked to the counter, holding the shirt like it was contaminated, and needed to be disposed immediately to save the good people present in the store.
The girl behind the register finally looked up, her instincts were spot on, she figured out that someone had invaded her personal space, she took off the headphones, and arched a brow. "That's all."
"Unfortunately this is the only thing I need right now."
She scanned it lazily. "Three ninety-nine."
"Figures," Dan muttered, dug through his pocket, found the wallet, paid with crumpled bills.
As she punched the buttons on the register, her eyes flicked down to the shirt again. "You sure about this color?"
"I'm sure about nothing right now, but my top priority at this very moment is to cover my upper body. I'm not a big fan of hypothermia you see."
She shrugged. "Your funeral. The bold message on the t-shirt might attract pesky flies."
Dan gave a dry smile. "Thanks for the heads-up, but I'm pretty sure that I can handle whatever life throws at me."
He paid, pocketed the change, collected the bill, grabbed the plastic bag, and walked towards the restroom at the back to change. The mirror was fogged up, employees were slacking off, the flickering light overhead was the kind that belonged in cheap jump-scare horror movies. He pulled on the pink t-shirt, stared at his reflection in the mirror, and he looked utterly ridiculous like a bum masquerading as a protester wearing a banner on his chest.
He muttered at his reflection. "Great you look like shit... Congratulations you've officially hit rock bottom."
The letters across his chest gleamed faintly: ENDING LIFE IS GOD'S CHOICE.
Dan sighed. "Yeah... Sure. Whatever you say so, SKY DADDY."
When he stepped back outside, the morning had let go of its inhibitions, sun smiled joyfully, spreading its warmth everywhere. Though the cool breeze still lingered, travellers on the road could experience two unique jolts of warmth and cold at the same time. He felt the weather was quite pleasant now, though he wished the t-shirt didn't draw so much attention. Its glitter caught every ray of sunlight like prime bait that attracts every kind of prey.
A woman on a bicycle slowed down just to stare at the unique colors and the message written on his t-shirt. A curious kid walking with his mother, whispered, "Mom, why's that man wearing that weird sparkling t-shirt?"
"Brian don't point your at finger at other people, that's rude. Just as you like playing with your toys that man also likes to wear those kinds of glimmering t-shirts. There's nothing weird about that at all."
The boy nodded his head, walked ahead his with mother who had increased her pace for some reason.
Gazing at their fading backs, Dan put his head down, pulled his shoulders up and muttered an honest answer to the kid's queries. "Life is cruel kid, sometimes you have to do things that you don't ever want to do."
He began walking again, deciding to take the long road, maybe the movement, sounds made by the stamping of the boots would distract him from the humiliation he suffered near the convenience store.
The air smelled faintly of bread from a bakery down the street, and somewhere in the other direction an all too familiar busker's guitar hummed a slow, melancholic, and jarring tune.
For a few moments, because of the quiet, Dan felt almost calm. The absurdity of it all— his sleepless night, Gary's endless teasing in the morning, the ridiculous pink t-shirt, the fliratious glances of the single mom, the query of the child—had blended into one long sigh of existence.
He was halfway across the street when a sudden mellow voice cut through the morning.
"Excuse me! Hey! Please wait a moment."
Dan turned his head, startled by a pleasant voice.
A blonde woman with a fierce expression of a raging tiger was marching toward him, waving a placard that read
'MY BODY. MY CHOICE.'