Some people enter our lives for only a brief moment, yet the mark they leave can last forever.
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Allen often wonders why everyone in the world seems to be in such a hurry. It's as if they're all chasing something just beyond their reach, something they may never truly catch.
Why do people spend their limited time chasing things they don't even love, forcing themselves through work they hate for rewards that feel so small in the end?
The thought lingers.
What if there were someone who had lived for hundreds, even thousands of years yet never aged? Not a vampire. No fangs, no thirst for blood. Just… an immortal. A person untouched by time.
If someone like that truly existed, Allen would want to meet them.
But then another thought intrudes.
"Oh crap."
Eternity sounds beautiful until you imagine living it alone.
If a person truly lived that long, everyone around them would eventually fade away. Lovers, friends, family. All gone. Over and over again. Would immortality still feel like a blessing then?
"Gosh…"
His thoughts snap back to reality… to work. He can't afford to upset the big boss. If he did, it would feel like the devil himself had risen from hell just to drag him down. Maybe that's dramatic. Maybe it's sarcasm. But that's exactly how it feels.
He stretches, raising both arms above his head with a quiet groan.
"After almost ten hours… I'm finally done."
A small sense of pride settles in his chest. He's completed two days' worth of workload in advance. He always does that, preparing for unexpected problems, emergencies, or simply to stay ahead. It's safer that way.
"Overtime again?"
Adam, his supervisor, leans over the cubicle wall, coffee in hand.
"Yeah. I'm about to head out though."
"You always do your best, but you still haven't been promoted." Adam shakes his head. "I keep recommending you, you know."
Allen smiles faintly. "I've only been here a year. It's understandable."
R Enterprise isn't exactly small. Promotions don't come easily.
"You deserve one this year," Adam insists. "Your talent shouldn't go to waste."
"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."
He slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves the tall building behind. The walk to his apartment takes about twenty minutes just enough time to let the noise of work drain out of him.
Halfway home, a craving surfaces.
It's been a while since he last drank.
Should he drink at home? No. Cleaning up afterward would be a hassle. A bar sounds better. Somewhere close.
That's when he notices it, a bar he doesn't remember seeing before.
"Good evening, sir," the bouncers greet him as he steps inside.
The interior is warm, dimly lit, almost intimate.
"Good evening. What would you like to order?"
The bartender's voice is calm, unusually calm. There's something steady about his presence.
"Your best seller," Allen replies, playing it safe.
As the bartender mixes the drink, Allen glances around. "I've lived here almost a year. I've never noticed this place before."
"We'll be celebrating our first anniversary next month," the bartender says with a faint smile.
"That's strange…"
"If I may ask, customer where do you live?"
"Just a block away."
"Perhaps," the bartender says gently, "you simply didn't need us until tonight."
Allen lets out a soft huff of amusement. "Maybe."
"Sometimes," the bartender continues, placing the glass in front of him, "we chase what we want with everything we have yet it remains out of reach. Other times, we need something without realizing it… until the moment we do."
Allen stares at the drink.
It makes sense.
In a strange way.
The bartender sets down another glass. "A complimentary shot. For a first-time guest and hopefully a future regular."
Allen blinks. "Really?"
"Of course."
He drinks. Time slips by quietly. The warmth in his chest spreads, easing something he hadn't realized was tense.
After an hour, he asks for the bill.
"Thank you for coming," the bartender says with a slight bow.
The bouncers echo their farewell as he steps back into the night air.
He walks home slowly, stopping by a convenience store to buy instant noodles.
It's almost midnight.
His apartment is modest but comfortable with two bedrooms, just in case family ever visits. He doubts they will, but he likes having the option.
He sets the noodles on the counter.
He should eat.
Instead, exhaustion pulls him under.
====== DREAM ======
"YOU ARE JUST AN UNWANTED CHILD! WE DON'T WANT YOU HERE!"
The man he was never allowed to call "father" towers over the room, fury spilling from every word.
"Stop it! Don't say that to our child!" his mother cries, shielding him.
"He's not my child!"
Their voices clash like thunder… loud, violent, relentless.
It happens almost every day.
Allen stands there, small and silent, convinced that their war exists because of him. If he hadn't been born, maybe there would be peace.
Maybe they wouldn't be so lonely.
Maybe they wouldn't hate each other.
I should disappear, he thinks.
Disappear from their lives.
Or from this world entirely.
"Are you insane? Abandon my child just to stay with you? He's only ten years old!"
"Not abandoning just sending him back there!"
"Sending him back is abandoning! We're leaving you! Don't you dare stop us!"
"What?! You're leaving me? Just like that? You—!"
The shouting never ends.
The damage piles up word after word, wound after wound.
And some things, no matter how small the apology, can never truly be undone.