Dedicated to VANILLA MINT.

***

Strawberry, a soft, juicy red fruit with tiny yellow seeds on the surface. Get rid of the leaves and pop in into the mouth to taste it. Sweet and sour. Short thrill, very addictive, just like love life. I like such addictions. Toshiya, is what I am known as, someone who keeps strawberries in fishbowl.

I see the world in different tints. Be it cheerful or gloomy, there’ll be a color for every one of feelings. Sometimes, I’ll get mixed feelings too. It is such a better way to look at the world. Everything is so clear and shaped out. Maybe that’s why I am seldom confused. They might not be, as they seemed, what are deep inside there? Is it really like that? I never derived at the right answer.

Strawberry stains on my clothes. I always have trouble washing them off. They seemed to be like the little troubles I faced in life. Difficulties. Sometimes, I would just ignore. The stains looked good. Troubles are interesting; they brighten up my life. Stains, they don’t really dirty you. Every mistake is a piece of art. I am not really the artistic type of person but I like to think the way that statement goes.

I’ve got a job at this gift. Nothing I like about the place, nothing to do with strawberries. Basically, I just do nothing but sit around. I wonder why I stayed there so long. Maybe things just don’t go as I wished. The different kind of people I meet everyday. Come and go. Nothing much. To me, it’s simply boring. Excitement? Why doesn’t it happen to me?

I sat by the road with nothing on my mind. If my life is so meaningless, why am I still living? It is meaningless maybe because I not worthy enough to be here. Should I stop breathing? Maybe I should. I just have to simply stand up and take a step forward. That’s all I have to do. Simple. I wasn’t at all scared. I can’t see any reason for me to live on. Just for strawberries? I don’t think so.

Somebody pulled me back. "Don’t stain the road," this somebody coldly said. I looked back at the person. He didn’t turn back, he merely walked away. I followed behind him blindly. He ought to have noticed by then. I was only focusing on him, blurring all the surroundings. The glaring lights seemed as though pulling us up a step higher than the rest. "Does the world look dark to you?" He shot me a question. I don’t think he wanted an answer.

He stopped by a common looking convenient store. Nothing peculiar. He just picked up a bottle of vodka. Naturally, I bought a box of strawberries. He laughed at what I had bought. I didn’t find it funny, what’s wrong with somebody with interests of something? He caught the hint and went back to his solemn expressions.

He stopped in front of a publishing house and held out the keys to open it. We went in. He opened his bottle of vodka and had just one mouthful of it. The remainder was violently splashed across the small, space in front of him. He took out his lighter. His cigarette was lit, so was the publishing house. He calmly walked out and locked up the place. I was pretty shocked. Many questions floated up in my mind like any other normal person would if he had seen such a scene right before his eyes. But I didn’t question him like the way he did with me. I knew he had his own reasons.

The whole night, we just sat at the bench in front of the place. Many things came to my mind, like "Why did I follow him here?" "Why am I still with him?" sort of questions. I just shook all these question to the back of my mind. What came to my mind and pause on the spot was, "He is someone different." He was someone who didn’t bother much as long as he felt happy. He was someone I found special, someone interesting.