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Melvin
Originally written from January 11, 2026 to January 13, 2026, 2 days



Chapter 1
For a moment, it was only that abrupt idea—what was it that I was just thinking about? A whole lifetime of ideas embodied in sensations and of the inefficient verbiage used to describe them. And where then do I come now? And from where? Does Heidegger’s Dasein resolve me? That this moment of who-I-am begets merely what is already self-forgetfully present-moment and authentic? If I clenched the door knob, would I feel in that moment that I was? Because as I grip it now, I feel that. But how well does that feeling translate to permanence? Is it just a whiff of the mind, a fleeting chuckle of self-aggrandizement? Is that what that is?
I stepped outside, and there, in all the things of which this world was composed—cars, street lights, electric lines, white road lines, and what else?—I felt myself inhabited and total, at least based on the ableness of my legs and the swiftness of my thoughts in grasping sensation at all. To have a body capable of this rewards me enough and justifies enough the conclusion of a whole autonomous being, at least from a brief, sharp glance with physical reality.
If I went to my parked car and drove to a cafe, what would I be but a nodal speck in a mirage of bright lights, of blurs and faces, of vanishing thoughts and sensations? But maybe, that is exactly the reason I did go many times in the past in the first place.
Now, I stand idly, and the weight of my body through my contiguous feet stands out to me. I am. (Based on sensation.) I am. The fullness equips me, as Jonas Morte argued about Nietzsche’s “I.” But maybe, for the sake of imagination, I can yield myself to a higher purpose, a higher claim to power, a will to one, if this Merleau-Pontian moment convinces me enough.
A person walked past. The wholeness, the hauntological hyperrealities that now flash through my head. Where am I now? Stunned. Sonder has made its presence known, and I am but a figment of this moment as this world through that Camusian flake of a person energizes me to be.
As they continued away from me, their back stretched into eternity.
I looked at my palm and its lines. The claim to power, will, and reality I actively make through sheer sensation-driven self-convincing pulses through my body as a calming smoldering haughtiness. In my head, it feels as though this affective heat radiates from my body, and I can barely hold in this teeth-clenching, aristocratic-egoistic bearing, a gesture like a cleaving hand escaping me.
By sensation alone, I—in this walking on the pavement—declare the fullness of myself and my ideals.
I went back inside and tested my hands on the surface of my desk. Its firmness betrayed the fragility I perceived of everything years ago, when my existential nakedness was at its worst. Now, I acknowledge the ontical reality of the desk and this safe, secure, comfortable present moment where my Being is intrinsic joy to myself.
Above the desk shone the sunbeams through the window. I glanced at its endless white. In this partially lit, mostly dark room, I idled and let my thoughts pass me.
After thirty minutes, I stood up and left the apartment. I strode along the streets and eventually arrived at the cafe. There, I set myself and my bag at a table and removed the sleeved laptop, pressing its power button. After ordering and getting my black coffee, I settled down and swiveled my mouse briefly to test its responsiveness before alt-tabbing to a text editor focused on a Markdown file containing fragments that, rather than hinting at a paradigm, only exposed my itineraries from throughout the year. I left the heavy thoughts to themselves, rarely projecting them to be heard or read. Instead, I metabolized loose associations cogitatively as I devoured novels, attended seminars, and went about my daytime flânerie.
In the text editor, I held the Control key down and repeatedly pressed the up and down arrow keys. Once I browsed through everything, I alt-tabbed to Gmail and looked through the emails in my “Seminar” category. None of the events scheduled within the next three months convinced me to attend.
My cogitating gaze drifted outside the window. A group of arm-around-shoulder teenage boys thumped and clattered over the sun-drenched concrete.
From the sky, a truck crashed and slammed through the window, crushing me against the wall. 
Jungle breaths. Fitful flashes of white over my lids. Rough, sand-like parching on my lips. 
A cough broke out of me. A craggy journey up my tight throat. The air snagged on the way out my putrid mouth.
I wrestled my eyes open. A mud-soaked vessel. Calls to the void spun. A dreary, muffled wheeze like a laugh left my lips.
I managed to speak—in a torrent of groans, murmurs, and whimpers. The world cleaved through my mind. Abrupt searing split my hippocampus. I jolted awake as if asleep.
A form, green and sharp-toothed, holding a blade, filled my vision. It towered over me.
It caught the frail hand that I raised and thrusted its blade through it. A scream ripped out of my soul. 
Factus sum, vīdī, perīvī.
The goblin tore the blade out. My rupturing skin spewed off in many directions.
A pebble snagged my scattering gaze.
I reached for it, hardened my body, and swung the rock against the goblin’s chin.
The goblin dropped to one knee. I grasped its shoulder and slammed it again.
Its arms went up in defence. I pummelled through them.
It curled up.
Blurs, deafening screams and dull squelches, wheezing bursts.
The thudding slowed to a halt.
I strewed coughs across the field. Blood leaked from the corpse.
“Huh…”
I lay down. 
Sharp grasses pricked my cheeks.
I drifted to sleep.
When I awoke, my stare was distant, an automatic smile overspreading my face. 
Then I swiveled my head.
The thing was still there.
I turned my head back. My smile remained. Twitches and spasms on my face. 
Hands soft around the wrists and rough around the drying blood.
An inhuman sound resounded in my mouth.
Vomit.
The tang stung.
Heaving.
“What was I doing again?” I stood up and unevenly started away, wearing a lopsided smile.
“This thing I am,” I cooed. A snicker distorted my face. Stifled roars in my throat. I clawed at my neck.
I fell on my knees and spewed again.
Dirt, grass, and the contents of my stomach.
I took a few moments to breathe.
Later, I stared at the clouds scudding along the noon sky.
Sunbeams rained down.
I gasped and swallowed.
I uncovered my eyes.
The sun screamed into the earth.
I put my hand over my eyes, shutting the rays out.
In the afternoon haze, my body littered the ground.
My fingers shakily dabbed the sweat off my head. Banging in my brain. A split along my body.
While I writhed, sleep snatched me again.
A hand gripped me awake.
Stifling a shout, I locked eyes with the man squatting over me with a gauntleted hand smothering my mouth.
With his other hand, he struck my head. The force and solid metal sent me into a daze.
He removed his hand from my mouth and unsheathed his sword, holding it with both hands. He raised as if to swing.
I hoarsely screamed, “Stop, stop! Please!”
He swung and cut me.
I wailed. “Wait, wait! Please!” 
He cut me again.
I whimpered, gasped, squealed, yelled, and begged.
He never stopped.
My screams carried across the field. Flowers, herbs, and foliage stirred.
Red streams ran all over my body.
I was the work of another man.
A hodgepodge of swirls.
Strokes.
The finished artwork displayed in the museum. It was titled, “Man Over Man,” depicting a lowly form being disciplined by his superior in the wilderness.
A jolt rippled through my spine. I flailed and tossed.
Nothing, but sensation.
A dance.
Inside me was born a wisp of something better.
I wrested a rock off the ground and snaked past his strikes with my own.
The smallest, faintest image materialized.
A man was born again.
The man thudded onto the ground.
I managed a gasp.
From dust, to dust.
I tossed the rock away before scrambling for it again. I brought it before the man and indulged in repetition.
Thud, thud, thud.
The luster in my eyes faded.
I became action.
Present moment.
Self-forgetfulness.
Authenticity.
Dasein.
Will to power.
Aristocratic egoism.
The Das Man made flesh.
A new creature brought forth from the muck.
Born again.
A silver, glinting edge glided along my face, drawing a splurt of blood.
The man managed to get up, wobbling with his blade.
I tackled him, pressed my hands against his neck, and sat astride him. 
The world shifted a bit.
I slammed his head with a balled fist.
His skull caved in.
By the time it was over, I stiffened and stared absently with a wobbling head.
The flesh oozed like spit.
Weltanschauung.
Leaf cuts wafted to the ground, rustles crescendoed behind me, and yells broke from the bushes.
I swung around.
Another man kicked me in the face.
Black.
I came to.
“…should stop working them so much.” A voice.
“Yeah.” Another one. “But what if they don’t have enough for the banquet?”
“Well, we can bolster them then.”
The room was a midden—cluttered with crates, blades poking out, stale air.
The two men talking were sitting on the floor, lying against a round column. New faces.
I lifted my face off the floor.
Their heads cocked toward me.
I crawled.
They snapped up and seized my head.
A boot slammed into my gut.
They held onto my head.
Another boot. This time, on my head.
My drool hung from my chin.
The door flew open.
“Oy, you two! What’re you doing here!?” A third man, pointing at them, charged into the room.
I edged my head toward him.
The two men hurried out of the room.
The third man stayed, hands on his waist, eying me before swiveling toward the door and starting away.
I reached out and croaked, “Help.”
The man turned to me for a moment. 
He squinted.
I managed a rasp.
The man sighed loudly, rubbed his forehead, and left the room. He closed the door and locked it from outside.
Hours passed.
I crawled up beside the door and waited there the rest of the time.
Footsteps returned.
The door opened.
The three men from hours ago clunked inside, jerked their fists at me, and bombarded me with curses.
By the time they exhausted themselves on me, I lay there, and they left again.
The next day, the treatment was the same.
Three months passed.
They laid their hands on my hair and dragged me out into the sunlight. I giggled like a child.
Piercing tips jabbed me. Beads of blood trailed along.
The voices gurgled like mush in my ears.
Weltseele scuffing through the greenery.
I became, unbecame—resolved into a man.
They threw me into a glade and ran off.
Distorted forms projected from the trees. Tall limbs exited. Monstrous hands slammed the ground, shooting up clouds of dust.
I unraveled. My body rendered in performance art. My organs peeled open. My arrested heart divulged its secrets. I became unknown.
From the fresh paint was resuscitated something of a person.
The green glow of healing hands prevented me from death, and from it, I cycled through eras of heavenly grace.
A hand pulled me out of the animalistic wreckage.
Then appeared a face with furrowed brows, a quivering lip, and tears dribbling along the cheeks.
Know not. I am. Know not. I am.
The hands clutched me and shook me until my body convulsed.
My eyes sagged, dragging along the ground.
A slap sent me staggering off to the side.
“Listen to me!” The wall of noise crystallized into a shout.
I came to be. The man in front of me sat on an upholstered stool and tonged coal into a furnace.
Lying on a pile of trash, I eased myself off it and sat up. “Hello?” My voice was clear.
The man smiled briefly at me before facing the fire. “Do you know what happened to you?”
“Me? Wait. Let me try to remember.” I closed my eyes and rested my fingertips on my lids.
The images of the recent past emerged. “I spent a long time in that room, and I don’t even remember how long. All I know is that before that, I was attacked by a goblin, and I killed it before trying to kill another guy who was trying to kill me. Then someone else kicked me in the head. That’s all I know.”
The man prodded the cinders. “They left you for dead.”
I caressed my lower lip. “I forgot what else… Oh right before I went here… I was somewhere else. I was someone else. But I don’t remember anymore… Everything started here, as far as I can tell. Something happened, and it just was the way it was.”
The man rubbed his brows.
“Do you still remember the faces of the men that tried to kill you?” he said.
I nodded, biting my lip, staring blankly into the flames.
The man leaned forward, laid the tongs against the mantelpiece, and got up. “Let’s go. We’re going to the shipyard. Wanna come?”
I swiveled my head around. “I… have nowhere else to be.”
The man scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, figures.” He started across the room and exited through the door that led directly to the street. “I’m Richardson by the way.”
I paused before stepping out. The daylight revealed my soft, smooth fingers. I gazed at them.
A man bumped into me, and I went stiff, hanging my head.
Richardson waved at me across the faces.
I weaved through the crowd and caught up to him.
We continued along the street, with the dock in sight.
While walking, I turned my hand over. “What did you do to me?”
“Huh? I’ll talk to later. We’re outside.” The noise of the streets peaked, and the faces multiplied.
They passed through an intersection.
A sea of giants, dwarves, elves, beastmen, and humans streamed along from all directions, fanning out again at the edges.
Richardson and I went all the way to the dock, then turned off to the shipyard.
Once we arrived, a group of laborers wearing red waved them over. 
Richardson and I shook hands with them.
The laborer rubbed his nose with his hand’s heel. “This is the one you got from Nutebon?”
Richardson dipped his head. “Without him, I would have come empty-handed.” He put his arm around my shoulder and laughed. “But he’ll be a good one, I promise.”
The laborer grimaced before shaking a finger at him. “You sure? The last one you got from that forest didn’t pan out.”
Richardson belly-laughed. “Ha-ha! This one is different, I promise! I mean, look at him. Don’t you see the spirit in his eyes? They’re glowing!”
The laborer looked away and around. “If this one doesn’t pan out, forget our deal.”
Richardson set his hand on the laborer’s shoulder, nodding with a smile.
The laborer frowned, pushed the hand off, and set off back to a ship they were working on. The other laborers were there alongside him.
Richardson and I shared a look. 
“Let’s go,” he said.
We followed the laborers to the ship.
While walking, the laborer turned around. “What’s your name?” He raised a hand at me, eying Richardson. “Don’t answer. You, what’s his name?”
Richardson’s default smile went taut. “Michaelson.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s Morris. Melvin Morris.”
“Great. Using our made-up names, are we?” Richard lifted his brows multiple times.
The laborer dropped the smile he gave me when he faced Richardson. “Shoo.”
Richardson walked in front of him and me. “I’m actually called ‘Sunday’ around here, don’t you know?” He eyed me more than he did the laborer.
The laborer sighed. “River! Can you get this guy off?”
The fingers of a golem sitting cross-legged in the middle of the shipyard twitched. Its eyes glowed, and it got up. Its head cocked toward the Richardson. “Away, ye goatish milk-livered knave,” it slurred like a drunkard. When it started moving, Richardson raised both hands and skedaddled out of there.
I stiffly turned my head between him, the golem, and the laborers. 
Once the golem returned to sitting and Richardson was nowhere to be seen, the laborer offered me his hand. “Morris.”
I shook it the second time. This time, it was firmer and crisper.
He flashed his teeth at me. “The name’s Roland.”
I nodded, smiling with slightly furrowed brows. “Thank you for having me.”
“Yo, yo, yo!” screamed one of the laborers ahead of Roland. “Let’s get this thing moving!”
I stopped, staring up at the net of lines connecting the ships.
Roland whooped, clapping as hard as possible. The sound waves sprung across the shipyard. “No names, no fame!” he chanted.
“We are the workers of the Solara!” the men all over the shipyard chorused back.
As soon as he boarded the ship, Roland showed him inside the cabin, taking out something from a chest inside. “I keep this here for anyone working. Here, have one.” He handed him a loaf of bread.
I bit, and it had no taste. But after eating it all, my hunger vanished. He then handed me a pouch.
I drank it all up. “Thank you.”
“Great, now that you’re done, let’s head back down. There’s a task I reserved just for you.” 
The two went down, and Roland showed me a chest. “Take out the things here and sort them. It’s easy, but it’ll take you a while. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure.” I crept forward and pushed it open. 
A gasp escaped me.
Lots of barnacles.
I leaned forward.
Different colors and shapes.
I picked one up and placed it on my right side.
I picked another up and placed it on my left side. 
I did this until I ran out. By that time, I had eight sets from a hundred barnacles. It took an hour.
“Good job!” The only one left in the shipyard, Roland waltzed up. “Now that that’s done, there’s something else I have for you.”
He led me out of the shipyard and along the street before stopping at an eatery where the rest of the laborers were feasting. Most were standing around with plates full of food, and some were sitting, legs apart. They all ate with their hands. 
“Sit down.” One of the laborers tapped an empty chair, grabbed a filled plate from someone else, and set it on the table in front of the chair.
I sat down, legs together. 
The aroma of pork grazed my nose. Not a single fragrance wafted by. It was either meat or mud.
While eating, Roland changed seats with the person to my right. “How are you doing?”
I nodded. “Fine.”
“Do you have anywhere to go?”
I shook my head.
“A place to stay?”
No.
“A home?”
Gone.
“Wanna stay with me?”
Really?
I nodded briskly.
“Okay then!” He patted my shoulder and returned to discussing with the other laborers.
Chapter 2
The door closed behind me.
I looked around. Roland’s house was small. It was only three rooms, if you include the hallway. It was a place for sleeping and a place for cooking. Both looked like closets.
“I’ll just sleep in the hallway.” Roland took a pillow from below a side table. “Try this.”
The pillow stunk. But it didn’t matter anymore. I took it and brought it to the bed and slowly lay down.
“So?” His voice rung from the hallway.
“It’s great.” I clenched the pillow.
“That’s good, that’s good…” He trailed off.
The next I knew, he was snoring.
I widened my eyes.
I stared into the ceiling.
Rain pitter-pattered outside the window. 
Distant thunder boomed from above.
“Roland?”
The snoring continued.
Not a single drop fell through the ceiling.
The room grew warmer as the night went on.
As if a spell was cast on me, my lids edged closed.
The night passed.
The next day, my hands stung. Sweat dribbled down the side of my head. I snapped awake, propping myself up.
Around me, sunbeams covered the floor, some of the walls, and the bed I was on.
I swiveled to the edge and got off, staggering to my feet.
On the floor of the hallway lay Roland, still asleep.
I looked around. It was only the two of them.
He tiptoed along the hallway. 
At the door, he stopped.
He opened it.
The world slowly woke up, as carriages rolled, older men walked, and laborers carried boxes along.
I padded to the porch steps and sat down.
In the distance, birds flew from rooftop to rooftop.
Three birds perched together stirred and flew away. A man wearing brown sprinted along the rooftops.
Two other men, wearing hats, ran after him, pointing and shouting.
My eyes followed them.
I stood up and set off in their direction.
“Melvin!” shouted a voice behind me.
Roland woke up. “Eager to go first thing in the morning? Wait. Let me cook something up for the both of us, then let’s leave.”
I stopped, looking one last time in the direction of the three men. I joined Roland inside.
“Have you ever eaten shrimp?” He grabbed a small box and opened it.
I nodded. 
“Try this.” He offered me what looked like a bit of shrimp on a spoon.
I grabbed it and put it in my mouth.
It had a sharp taste. 
“Like it? You can have more. You’ll need to eat anyway for later. Don’t want you hungry on your first day.” He put the cover back on the box before putting a shrimp in his mouth, crunching.
I stared at the busy street outside.
“Wanna go now?” he mumbled.
Yes.
The moment we stepped onto the street, he dusted off his hands. “Did you forget anything… Oh right, I forgot. Okay, let’s go. I’ll make sure you have stuff to bring home later.”
We continued along the sidewalk.
An elephant blocked our path. It was entering the main road.
Around it walked men wearing fitted white coats and tall, brimless hats, looking it up and down and pointing with long, club-like sticks. One of them prodded it on the left foreleg once.
Once they passed, we resumed our journey through the city.
By the time we reached the shipyard, we were both carrying bags full of bread loaves Roland bought from a bakery. We handed them out to the laborers before eating our share. 
Roland then tasked me to do the barnacles again. I finished the job in half the time this time. I had no more distractions and nothing else to do.
Once I finished at the end of the day, Roland and I went home immediately.
I lay again on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Roland came inside. “What do you want to do next? I know you should be working with us. But it’s better you think about this before you start working with us officially. You can stay here in the meantime, but if you take another job, then, please find your own place… But I’d be happy to continue providing you lodging as long as you work under me… How’s that sound?”
I nodded. “I have nowhere else to be.”
“Right… That’s not really an excuse though. Don’t take this just because…” He slowly backed out of the room. “Think about it.” 
He lay down and slept.
The next day, I was at the shipyard again, staring at the barnacles. I recalled our conversation earlier. “Am I supposed to do this?” I asked him.
He replied, “As long as you’re fine with it. Keep doing it.”
I grabbed a barnacle again after putting it down because I realized it was in the wrong set.
A laborer stopped nearby, watching me.
I glanced at him.
The laborer opened his mouth.
I lifted my brows.
He closed it, turned around, and walked away.
My nose wrinkled.
By the time I finished with the barnacles, the sun was down. I took much longer than even the first time. There were two chests and over two hundred barnacles.
Roland wasn’t at the shipyard.
But that laborer who looked at me earlier was. “Hey, Melvin. That’s your name, right? Looking for boss? He’ll be here in a while. Just wait…”
I nodded and smiled politely. “Thank you.”
“By the way, I was wondering. How did you come to know… Richardson?”
“I… I don’t remember exactly. But I remember someone saved me.”
“Was it him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”
“Okay… Because recently, Richardson passed away.”
“What?”
“Just wanted to say.”
“Seriously!?”
“Yeah. You know what happened?”
“No.”
“Melvin!” Roland called from the distance.
“Tell me if you know anything, alright?” the laborer beside me said.
I nodded. 
He left, passing Roland on the way out of the shipyard.
As soon as Roland came close, I said, “Yes?”
He tapped me on the shoulder. “How did you do? I was waiting a while ago for so long. Did you have something to say to me?”
“No, why?”
“Oh, I thought you did when I saw you talking to Peelo there.”
“Peelo? That’s his name?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Okay… No, I didn’t have anything to say.”
“Let’s go home. I’m sleepy.”
Two days later, Richardson arrived on the shipyard, shaking my hand. “How are you doing?”
I went stiff momentarily. “Yeah?” I squeezed out a smile. “I’m doing well, I’m doing well.”
“Really? Where’s that guy?”
“Roland?”
“Yeah, that snake’s not here, is he?”
The golem stood up.
Richardson cursed and fled.
I furrowed my brows, eying the laborer who had told me that Richardson was dead.
The laborer met my gaze and smiled, chuckling. “Sorry!” he mouthed, pressed his hands together, and did a semi-bow.
I squinted, shaking my head slightly.
Roland waved from the top of the ship behind me. “Hey! It’s him again! Peelo?”
Peelo half-shrugged and grinned.
As the day went on, the barnacles kept piling. I barely even noticed when I finished one set. I just went to the next without pause.
The day ended just as quickly as it began.
I later stood in front of Roland’s house. He was in front of the door, unlocking it.
A cry for help rung across the field behind me.
I swung around.
A boy was crawling, naked, holding a bloodied gem.
In the distance, a man in a coat ran in our direction.
“Roland,” I said.
He finally got it unlocked and pushed the door open, going inside. “Yeah?” he said without looking.
“A kid is here, and someone, a man, is running at us.”
Roland turned.
His face morphed upon seeing the kid.
“Get inside!” He tore his vocal cords.
The rustles grew louder, and the darkness went pitch-black.
“What?” I hurried to his side.
“Come on!” He pulled me inside.
The door slammed shut.
“That’s not a baby! That’s a demon!”
The voice caught in my throat. “W-what? How?”
“Come on!” He ran inside the bedroom and slammed the wooden window with his bare fists. He slammed more than ten times before it made a hole big enough to squeeze themselves through.
After I leapt onto the street outside, a ghastly scream resounded across the area. 
We barrelled through the streets, thrashing our hands back and forth.
By the time we reached the shipyard, we were panting and wheezing.
“What was that?” I clutched my chest. Sweat ran along the side of my face.
Roland waved his hand up and down. “We shouldn’t be here. Let’s head to my friend’s.”
“Huh?”
“I told you already. A demon. It’s a demon!”
“In the city?”
“Yes! Demons attack every so often.”
“People die?”
“Many!”
I staggered back a few steps. A hand wrenched my arm from behind.
I yelped, jumping away and tearing myself free.
A sigh escaped Roland.
I looked at him and turned around.
Peelo darted me a grin. “Good news. The demon has been put down.”
I clenched my teeth. “Why?”
“Demons of course!”
It wasn’t that. I was asking him why he scared me like that. But I smoldered in silence.
Roland’s guffaw boomed beside me. I jolted.
“Let’s go back.” He looked between me and Peelo. As we stirred and ambled away, he glanced back. “And Peelo, please don’t scare our friend here.”
Peelo brought his hands together and did that bow again.
He even offered to shake my hand.
I accepted with a twitch under my eye. “Peelo.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Name origin?”
“Parents.” He smiled and nodded as if he revealed the greatest secret known to man.
Roland giggled like a child, muffling his mouth.
I made a weird sound like a moan out of sheer confusion. “Eugh?”
Roland burst out laughing. Peelo made a sly sound like “hee-hee.”
By the time I and Roland got home, it felt like it’d been a year already. The familiarity of the bedroom scent and the squeak of the door never left my mind.
Outside, while we could still see him, Peelo did a wave with his hand like a connoisseur and left, the scritch on the dirt red-carpeting his exit.
“Remind me again not to have demon babies out at the front again, will you?”
“Huh?” He burst out laughing like he had a lifetime to spare, then lay down and sighed, the tension leaving his voice. “Sleep well.”
I pressed down on the bed several times before lying down. “No babies?” I squeaked.
“No babies,” he murmured, half-snoring already.
The next day, two men wearing purple with a red diagonal line across their chest stood right outside the edge of the shipyard. One had his hands resting on a giant sword standing on its tip. The other adjusted his glasses, flipping through papers on a clipboard. 
“What’s the hold-up?” The glasses one almost pinched his nose but stifled the urge.
“No hold-up.” The sword one smirked, shooting him a glance. “Just waiting. The one I know should be here any time soon.”
“Really? How can you be sure? I get many false reports often. How can you be sure your informant knows exactly where he is when he hasn’t even been here?”
“He had someone else tail him. It’s simple.”
“Well, looks like I need better informants then.”
“That you do.”
They turned around at the scuffing of my walking up behind them.
“Who are you… Oh, Roland!” The sword one clapped once.
He and Roland shook hands. 
“It’s been a while.” Roland signaled me to wait behind him.
“Yeah. How are the new changes hitting you?” 
“Tentative, but we’re going to shift our operations down south. Maybe, the waiting won’t be too long. But as of now, we’re still four months away from a response.”
“Four months!? That’s insane. Can you update me on that? Mr. Hoffer here has bad informants, apparently.”
“That I do.” The glasses one, Hoffer, sighed through his nose.
The sword guy suppressed a laugh. “I have good ones, but they’re busy tailing you.”
“Oh, tell me about it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“Well.” He eyed Hoffer. “Looks like I got bad informants too!” The two laughed like old men despite being in their thirties.
Roland kept a closed-lip expression, having darted a soft smile at me every so often.
I swiveled my head behind me, keeping an eye on my surroundings.
A bird flew to a rooftop, shaking hands with another that perched right after it.
My jaw inched down. Roland almost tapped me, giving me a wave instead when I turned to face him.
He answered my raised brows with a gentle thumbs-up.