It had been days since Daniel tasted the cruelty of the sun—the heart of the solar system that made life possible. But it happened to be heartless, a threat to survival.

Peeping through a gap in overlapping curtains in the living area, Daniel scowled at the breaking dawn that intruded on the peace of San Maler. He touched his cheek and felt his healing scar singed by the whiplash of sunlight. Nestled in his palm was a ball of yarn and a big needle—two materials he had prepared this morning to do some odd protective measures. He caught a tiny ray of light penetrating through a hole in the curtain and hurriedly sewed it. He stitched the curtains together to prevent any light from breaking in. "Now, I will do the same to others," he whispered.

He roamed around the house, looked for the embroidered polyester curtains he installed, and sewn the gaps together, obscuring the treacherous illumination outside. However, the boy seemed dissatisfied with his work.

A sudden jolt of his index finger pointing up sparked a thought inside his mind. The kid swiftly rushed to his bedroom, grabbed the roll of used adhesive tape in his drawer, and fastened the edges of the curtains. "That's it!" he interjected. He looked at his hand and realized the adhesive tape was insufficient to fasten all the curtains. Thus, he rushed to the kitchen and searched for some tapes while crossing his fingers. By chance, Daniel found rolls of different kinds of tapes hidden inside the cabinet under the sink. He grabbed the rolls of electrical, packing, and insulating tape rolls and carried on to complete his brilliant plan. "Done," he whispered as he left his mother staring at a fixed point somewhere at the ceiling. She had no desire to eat her breakfast taped on the nearby desk.

The lad dashed inside his room, then sat on his bed, lost in thoughts. He heaved a sigh.

"Daniel, you looked sad and tired," Lady Mondragon whispered in his ears, "What is bothering you?"

"Nothing," he answered.

"Rubbish!" she interjected, "Tell me. I am your friend. Let it out."

His corneas were hazed with hopelessness. "I am counting the days that go by, the yesterdays. In that direction—forward—the tomorrows are out of sight," he poetically delivered.

Lady Mondragon perched on his shoulder. "What are you trying to say? I am lost. But continue. I will listen," she smiled.

A teardrop from his eye drifted away. "How many days are left for us?" he asked.

"What do you mean by how many days?"

His hand chased the teardrop and flicked it with his finger. The teardrop evaporated like vapor. "When will we expire to breathe our last breath?"

She lowered her head. "I don't know. Nevertheless, I say to you to make each day count."

Another teardrop drifted away, running toward the hair barrette's spot. "How?" he bit his lip, "And even though I snapped means to gain it, it will be all for nothing."

Mr. Lens ascended from below. Daniel gripped the magnifier's handle and drew it closer. "We have no hope. Save one," the old lens said.

"I'll try," the boy breathily uttered.

Mr. Lens made an angle and reflected glare to the kid's cheerless face. "How about let us solve the Rubik's cube?" he asked, inviting the boy to play.

Lady Mondragon hopped to the great wonder of his idea. "That'll be fun. I guess?"

"We will help you," said the two.

Daniel pulled out the cube from his pocket and clambered onto his bed. "You know what?" he paused, "It's impractical to lie down in the bed because, just look around, everything and everyone is floating."

Lady Mondragon agreed.

Mr. Lens beamed. "I can see that you are almost done with that side, except for that red tile in the middle of all the whites," he withdrew his convex face from the cube, "I think a little twisting will fix that." He guided Daniel to solve it. In a few twists, the white tiles were completed. "Shall we jump to the first layer of the cube's corners and try to solve it?"

Daniel gave a single nod. After diligently following Mr. Lens' detailed instructions for a few minutes, the first layer of the cube's corners was completed.

Lady Mondragon applauded. "Congratulations," she winked an eye, "You have solved one side. The nine white tiles are in place. And the first layer is done."

The magnifying glass soared the ceiling and gleamed, bedazzling the barrette below. "Look who has been cheery but didn't offer any help," Mr. Lens peeved; his tone sounded too proud.

She poised a striking pose and met Mr. Lens' convex glass with complete composure to the fact that she was unaffected. "At least, I'm good at giving moral support. Besides, Daniel can solve it all alone," she hissed like a viper.

Mr. Lens didn't make any sound but made a sour face.

Daniel interrupted, "Thank you, Mr. Lens and Lady Mondragon."

The two smiled.

Daniel tossed the cube and grabbed the barrette with his left hand and the magnifier with his right. He lay on his back. Slowly, he floated and lingered just right between the mattress and the ceiling. He shut his eyelids, sleeping in the middle of the room filled with soft, diffused light. His arms drooped until his hand brushed against the silky-smooth bed sheet. Mr. Lens and Lady Mondragon were also arrested in a mellow mood, ready to fall asleep. His candle fingers unclasped, freeing the hair barrette and the old magnifier from his grip. The trio is adrift on weightlessness, casting off the baggage of worries and problems. The knotted muscles on his shoulders untangled, his backbone decompressed, and his growing curly hair dangled free from care.

Taped on a table was his phone plugged with a charger. The screen woke up, indicating a hundred percent full battery. From stillness, the phone vibrated. A reminder popped on the crystal display. Daniel groaned, irritated by the annoying vibration noise. The annoying pulsating sound lasted for about a minute, pestering his tranquillity, trying to win over his mind. Convinced, the boy rolled down and detached the phone from the desk. With heavy eyes, he examined the reminder. His eyes widened, pupils contracted, and his irises twinkled with iridescent colors. "Mr. Lens?" he gulped down, "Mr. Lens, check this out!" he said with a stroke of surprise written on his face.

Daniel grabbed the magnifying glass. "Oh! You need my lens to see it clearer," Mr. Lens glimmered, "It's a pleasure to help."

The boy looked closer as the convex glasses magnified a picture of a scarlet card that emerged on the phone screen. Mr. Lens cleared his throat. "You want me to read this aloud for you?" he queried.

"I read it already. But—" he inhaled, "Yes. Please read it out loud to confirm I read it right," he added. His expression was a melange of disbelief and joy.

Lady Mondragon drifted closer, eager to catch the mystifying buzz.

"Daniel Veneracion," Mr. Lens altered his tone to sound formal, "Your birthday is coming up soon! Congratulations! You are turning fourteen, little man."

Lady Mondragon cupped her face in surprise and couldn't hide the excitement aching to blow up. "That's a real shocker!" she shrilled.

Daniel had a quizzical expression painted on his face, and then he let out strings of sentences ending with rising intonation. "Is it real? Is it my birthday tomorrow? Is tomorrow, March 15? I'm turning fourteen?"

"Well, I'm sixty-three by then. Remember, we have the same birthday?" said Mr. Lens.

"Perhaps the phone got it wrong because the battery went critical, so I plugged it in," he replied.

"I doubt that the phone went cuckoo," Mr. Lens said. Daniel released the magnifying tool from his grip, and it drifted across the room. He bumped against the door with a glossy chart showing the year's days and months. "Daniel, look at this calendar thumbtacked to your door. The days from January to March 9 are marked with crosses!"

"I forgot," the boy hung up, "I did that, but not to track my birthday."

Mr. Lens allowed some light through his glass. "Let us deal with the facts," he winked an eye. "It has been five days since the earthquake. So, nine plus five equals fourteen," he added.

The glittering barrette espied Daniel, who was making timid reactions carrying weight in his chest. "You marked the calendar for what reason, Daniel?" asked Lady Mondragon softly.

"I am waiting for Dad. I am waiting for him to come home," he answered.

"He will be back. I can pick auras throbbing through my antennae," she smiled," Well, Mr. Lens' addition was right. It all makes sense that today is fourteen and tomorrow—"

"—is my birthday," Daniel added.

"And my birthday too!" Mr. Lens proclaimed, leaning on the wooden door.

Lady Mondragon took a sharp look at the old magnifier. "Shush!" she put a finger between her lips. "Let me handle this," she mouthed.

"Okay," mouthed Mr. Lens, obeying the hypnotic witchery of her adorned wings.

"Why the sad face? Birthdays are supposed to be sunny days. So, cheer up!" she said.

Daniel managed a faint smile.

Lady Mondragon didn't quit. She wanted to make him buoyant. "We can make decorations and embellish them in the living room or perhaps the kitchen because the foods are there."

"Oh, food... glorious food," Mr. Lens uttered, salivating with the imagination of a grand banquet.

"I know there are art papers, crayons, and scissors in that drawer," she pointed to his study desk. "We can do some crafts like festive streamers. Don't ask me, but I am a genius at event decoration," she went on, selling her idea.

"All right," Daniel showed his pearly white teeth," Let us do it!"

Lady Mondragon plummeted on the mattress, victorious in her conquest to make the boy happy. "Don't forget the yarn for our streamer," she uttered with pleasure while dancing some cha-cha on the bed.

"Come here, Mr. Lens, and please close your mouth," he grabbed the magnifying instrument. "Join and help us!" Daniel demanded.

The three spent the hour before noon making streamers and other handicrafts, unleashing their creativity. Daniel got the chance to come across the boy he was once a long time ago, a spirited artistic creature. On one occasion, he said that he was no longer interested in arts because it was futile to hone them while burdens were crushing his shoulders. But now, his gifted hands were actively playing with scissors and colored papers. His unflagging enthusiasm impressed his friends.

"I think it's done," he stretched the colorful streamers, "What do you think?"

"It is lovely. Just lovely," said Lady Mondragon, wiggling her shiny shoulders.

Mr. Lens drew nearer and inspected the finished product. "It is the work of a true artist. One word will fit to describe it. It's... sublime," he finally said.

Daniel blushed, and an idea popped into his head. "I think we should celebrate at midnight," he scratched his eyes. "I want to see the stars when the minute hand ticks upright—the moment of the shift from today to tomorrow. So that we can whisper for a present."

"That is beautiful, Daniel," the hair barrette said, holding back her tears.

Mr. Lens coughed. "That's different, and I love it. It is my first time celebrating my birthday at midnight. Extraordinarily unique!" he interjected.

"I'll set my phone for an alarm. But where's my phone?" he inquired. The boy searched for his phone that, perhaps, mingled from the swirling pieces of art papers like an asteroid belt orbiting him. He grabbed the magnifying glass and looked through it. Squint-eyed, he noticed a shiny rectangular object on his left. He swiftly stretched an arm. His hand thrust through the swirling colorful scraps, making way for his fingers to feel the glassy thing.

"Did you get it?" asked Lady Mondragon.

In a second or two, Daniel withdrew his arm back. "Whew, I got it!" he yelled in relief.

"That's an important thing clasped in your hand right now," she pouted, "Apart from checking time and messages, without it, we can't have some snapshots for your birthday." She crossed his arms and swayed them sideways, "And took some photos of me!" she added.

Mr. Lens chuckled. "You are kidding, right, Lady self-absorbed," said the magnifying glass.

"Don't you want some pictures with Daniel or me?" She puckered her lips, fuller and desirable.

Mr. Lens didn't bother to answer her question.

Daniel tapped the screen twice and looked for the clock icon. "I'll create an alarm and set it to 11:59 pm," he managed with a smile. But somewhere deep in his soul, he knew this happiness would never last—short-lived like sky lanterns.

"Okay," the two nodded.

He slid the phone into his pocket. "Now, help me clean the room, prepare our lunch, and decorate these streamers in the kitchen."

"Right away, Daniel," the two replied harmoniously.

———————

While in the kitchen, gobbling luncheon meat and sliced bread, Daniel heard someone clicking their driveway gate. He hurriedly dashed through the living area, accidentally bumped his head against the front door, and cautiously opened it ajar. He stuck an eye out, surveying the rusty gate in the garden. "Who's there? What do you want?" he asked, yelling.

"Do you have any food?" a boy replied. He attempted to climb over the iron gate.

"Hey! Stop doing that," he licked his chapped lips, "Just wait there, okay. I need to change my clothes first to protect myself from the harmful sunshine. And then, I'll go outside to give you some food!" he shouted, his voice echoed.

The beggar said yes, floating behind the metal bars.

Daniel went upstairs, sneaked through his mother's room, and crossed the threshold of the walk-in closet. He stealthily scoured for clothing to protect his skin from the noon sun's harmful rays. He moved to his father's garments and accessories and pulled out a leathery jacket from hanging apparel rows. This will do, he thought.

The boy wore the khaki leather jacket, zipped it, and rolled the sleeves up. He tipped his head and saw caps, shades, and sporty things floating crammed on the ceiling. His right hand reached for the brown leather aviator hat with large earflaps. Grabbed by his left hand were two motorcycle gloves wrapped with a handkerchief. He tied the handkerchief around his head, wore the cap on, fixed the goggles snugly against his face, and slipped his hands into the gloves. Just at the end of the spacious walk-in closet, a wall of mirrors awaited his presence. He switched on a bulb and saw his reflection. "I like it," he whispered as he fastened the chin strap of the aviator hat. "Wait, I forgot my pants," he added.

After wearing his blue jeans and sneakers from his bedroom, Daniel immediately rushed to the kitchen. He snatched an enormous plastic bag from a drawer and gathered canned goods, bottled water, and biscuits from the cabinet. He stuffed them clumsily in the plastic bag.

Now, he was ready to face the sunlight and meet the boy begging for food. He opened the main door and stepped on a hot gravel path. My armor works, he thought as he marched gingerly down the garden lawn, looking for the hose. "There you are," he said, wrapping the garden hose around his waist. The boy trod the withered garden trail, defeating the sunshine.

"Hello," he murmured through a wide gap in the gate, "I am here now with some food as promised," he swallowed a lump of saliva. He shifted his vision from left to right, and suddenly, a silhouette loomed before him. "Oh! You startled me."

Daniel opened the gate, and the beggar snatched the stuffed plastic bag out of his hand. "Sorry, I made you wait," he explained, "I think that it would be enough for you and your mates hiding on the withered bushes in that bungalow," he went on, pointing to the one-storied house along the street.

The beggar lifted his head and met his pitiful eyes underneath the ridiculous goggles. "Thank you," the boy whispered, twirled, and drifted away, hailing his homeless mates.

Daniel stood by the gate and observed the bunch of drifters. Most were boys, teenagers—naughty, audacious, and wild. They looked like mummies and wrapped their limbs and extremities with ripped white fabrics like bandages. Loose tribal shirts, ripped jeans, baseball caps, and sandals were their getup. For sure, they are not from here. Possibly, they hopped and landed from one of the floating cities crossing over our town, he thought. Strapped on their backs were bulky knapsacks with a considerable weight that perhaps helped them stay low on the ground. "That is a nice idea," he whispered in his ear.

For a while, the gang of drifters looked at Daniel and his house. They were talking something indistinctly, a different language, perhaps. After a short assembly, they nodded to each other and hid under the shades, staying away from the light.

Daniel waved his hand until shadows swallowed the vagabonds. "Bye," he said before he locked the gate.

———————

The sun knelt, and the twilight fell. A minute ago, Lady Mondragon, Mr. Lens, and Daniel were done decorating and cleaning the kitchen. They had just finished supper. Daniel yawned after sipping the contents of sterilized milk. "It's time to sleep, fellow artists," he said as he grabbed the barrette and magnifier lying on the counter. He sluggishly went to his lit room, glowing like a searchlight in the middle of a sea. And without changing his outfit, the boy tossed his deadbeat body to bed, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep, drifting away too from the earth.

———————

Darkness shrouded the horizon. Silence mantled the entire town, stifling any sound. From a distance, a faint glow of yellow and blue light trailed the street toward Daniel's humble abode. The glow intensified as it got closer and closer, and then it stopped hovering just above the house.

A long, durable, thick, twisted string dropped on the ground, dangling from the glowing thing over the solar panel roof. Black figures slid down onto the lawn like hired shooters with evil intentions. One of them gestured an arm forward, pointing toward the door, the leader perhaps, signaling his legion to break into the house. The man extended his arm and signaled the men to reduce the altitude of the glowing thing. The base was made of wood. And it touched the garden lawn without a sound. The leader waved his hand to begin their plan. A short man picked a rock and pitched it to the window.

Daniel jolted a bit. His eyelashes fluttered, awakening, but he quickly went back to sleep.

The black figures broke through the shattered window and clicked a flashlight on. They advanced into the kitchen and discovered the cabinets filled with canned goods, snacks, loaves of bread, condiments, and many more. The men were cheering and hooting in silence while transferring the merchandise to the glowing object.

Loud clunking noise from the kitchen echoed.

Daniel jolted a leg and opened his eyes. His ear moved, hearing some stumps downstairs. He unfastened the aviator hat, quickly rolled down, and headed to the kitchen. "Hey!" his rosy cheeks drained from the dread he saw. "What are you doing?" he bellowed, switching on a bulb.

The illumination revealed their identity, wearing white bandages and baggy tribal shirts. It was the mummy vagabonds. The drifters went panicky. They took a flight instantly. Daniel pushed himself forward and snatched a bag from a skinny boy. "That's mine! Mine!" he persisted as he struggled for his item, dragging him to the drawing room.

A tall drifter, wearing a silver earring in one ear, dove through the broken window. "Hey! It's ours now, loser!" the towering beggar hauled off and punched him.

Daniel plummeted against the tiled floor, knocked by the sharp blow. He was shaking with rage. He dove through the broken window. The yellowish glow greeted him, and it was ascending away. "A hot air balloon," he gasped.

A drifter from the bushes ran in a hurry and grabbed the rope. Daniel headed for the rope, which was brushing off the ground. He rammed against the drifter. "Give me back my food, treacherous, heartless beggars. Thief!" he yelled.

The beggar looked down and met Daniel's bloodshot eyes. "I am sorry," he mouthed and kicked him in the face. His nose gushed forth with blood.

Daniel's hand went cold as he saw the drifter's face, the same boy who knocked on the door of his heart, begging for some food. He plunged against the ground, breaking his heart and shattering his mind from the twist of fate. His fingernails sunk into the dirt, and he sobbed, letting loose his anger while choking with thick blood.

The surroundings went silent as if nothing had happened. Daniel strangled the dying grass and crawled feebly just to get inside. He vaulted up and wandered across the living area and to the kitchen. He twirled slowly in the air. The cabinets and the fridge were almost empty, and all the decorations were ruined as if a storm had havocked everything. A teardrop escaped from his eye, lamenting over the destruction. His knees softened.

Daniel headed upstairs and barged into the main bedroom. He roused his mother, tugging her elbow. His eyes welled with tears, "What were you doing all this time?" he asked; his tone was angry. "Did you know that your son fought for—" he sniffed, "I don't know... scraps? Can you see my broken nose? Can you even hear me?" he bawled.

He wiped his misty eyes with his forearm. The pupils of his eyes dilated, and his heartbeat soared. He opened his mouth and began to let out his anger. "Get a grip of reality!" he grabbed her shoulders, "Help me! Be a mother to me! I am tired!"

Daniel drew closer. Their eyes met. "I need you, Mom. I am here—your son—taking care of you," he sniffed, "What would I do to make you care? Hug me! Love me now because the baby's gone!" he cried.

A thunderous slap wrecked his face.

"That's all? That's all you've got," he confronted his mom, unafraid. "Slap me! Hit me more!" he clenches his teeth, expecting another clout. "Any words you want to say? Huh?" he dared, fuming with a grudge.

His mother just surveyed his angry eyes, a look devoid of any hint of concern.

Daniel turned around and slammed the door. "Crazy woman," he whispered.

He returned to the kitchen, pulled out a tallow candle and a lighter from a drawer, and switched the light off. Lying in the middle of the dining table was a cupcake. He scooped it and tore the wrapping. With his icy fingers, he punched a hole into the cupcake and placed the candlestick upright.

A distant noise of an alarm buzzed. It's 11:59, he thought.

He burned the candle's wick. It produced a different flame—blue and spherical—illuminating the surroundings dimly.

Daniel sang the birthday song. His voice was echoing with melancholy drifting through the broken window. The heavens heard his sad song. "Happy birthday—to—me—" he whispered, snuffing out the blue flame.

He shed tears.