5 months later.

My phone pinged with an incoming message.

It was my coworker.

Barb: The party is in two.

Me: I'll be there. Thanks.

"Mister Ekim, I'd really appreciate it if you did away with your phone till the end of session," the four-eyed therapist said.

"Well, I wouldn't appreciate it."

"Do away with the sass, Nike. She's not me." Maay rolled her eyes.

"Please, both of you, let's be formal," the curly wigged therapist said with a hand demonstration, leaning into her seat when she realized she had gotten our attention.

"Yeah let's," Maay said after a beat of silence, flipping her rainbow wig over her shoulder when she got an exasperated look from the therapist.

I shook my head at her while studying her attire again.

Her attires could always be exchanged for the latest model of a bullet proof car. And that was something since she only wore a blue, fire-patched pant, a purple- stereo robe, mansion- high heels and a shoe shaped bag.

"So as we were discussing before we were interrupted. Miss Maay, you complained that your brother holds a lot of secrets from you. If I may ask, what do you perceive as a secret?"

"A secret-" Maay started with her signature bubble voice, "-is hiding your trauma in the name of investigative journalism when you actually have a sister."

"Maay!"

"God dammit Nike!"

"Please, the both of you should remain calm," the therapist said in a voice capable of winning an Oscar. Despite her reassuring words and pleading eyes, Maay's words kept ringing in my head. It wasn't the first time we'd argued during the session. Hell! It wasn't even the first time we were arguing in our lifetime. But something about her words struck close to home. It always did.

That, and coupled with the fact that she never supported my career, made me get up from the swivelling chair, and proceed towards the door.

"The funny thing," I said, turning to face Maay. "-is that you didn't need to set up all this to insult me. You could have just done so over breakfast and I wouldn't mind ignoring you. But now I actually blame myself for trying to show up."

I walked out and banged the door.

"Mister Ekin?" I heard the therapist call but I didn't reply. Instead the stomp in my steps increased till I was at the edge of the hallway, where I looked back to see if anyone was following me and I was glad they weren't.

Moments later, when I'd gotten out into Orgun's city air, I made my way to the bus stop because I didn't bring a car.

What I noticed however was that this part of Orgun would have been a rural town if not the tall enterprise building and the wide highway— cause the trees were much and the silence was another thing.

It gave me enough time to get lost in my thoughts and what used to be.

It didn't take long for a bus to stop bye and gently I got in with my backpack in hand, ignoring the passengers who stared at me weirdly for wearing a suit jacket on a blue jean in a business renowned area.

They were surely acting like Maay.

I took a seat close to the window, so that I could stare at the sight of passing trees.

My relationship with Maay overcame my thoughts again.

Maay had never been this judgmental, in fact she'd always seen me as a doting elder brother.

What changed?

And I refused to believe that it was puberty that caused it.

I whipped out my note and jotted out: "sometimes he wished to understand".

Just as I finished jotting and began staring out the window, I felt a tap on my wrist as the seat dipped.

"Good morning. Are you the author of Offsprings?" A brown skinned lady asked with a smile and furrowed brows. I thought she was ready to be disappointed but there was just something in her eyes— her assumption wasn't basic.

"I am."

"Well-" she said, pulling a copy of my book out of her purse. "Can you sign an autograph for me? I'm a fan. I related so well to Edison and why he made the decisions he did cause some years ago, the brother of my crush also got caught in the same web."

"I'd love to."

She passed her towards me, and I did sign at two places, the cover and the front page and she also took a picture with me, where I forced myself to smile.

We engaged in a long discussion where I asked what she enjoyed in the book and what she'd have wanted changed.

"To me, Everything in the book is just a confirmation to real life. It wasn't just fiction, it was also a reality. And since reality is unpredictable, the book should just be left as it is."

I nodded at her and mulled over her word. Somehow her praises resided in me, easing the edge off my mood.

I asked for her number which she gladly gave until and we bided our goodby until when the conductor said, "We've arrived at Lativer."

I got down at the bus stop to see a crowd. It wasn't unusual since the stop was half a mile from Lativer's main market.

One that would normally comprise of a busy air, pedestrians pushing at each other and family women walking around with shopping bag and purchasing household needs.

That wasn't happening today though.

Today's crowding wasn't caused by two pedestrians trying to outwalk each other, no. The onlookers had formed a circle about something, and some street sellers were just coming out for stalls which weren't theirs.

Words like "he was shot", "out of nowhere" and "blood" were the main topic.

Someone could be seen calling an ambulance while another asked that the crowd lessened to give the victim more room.

I wasn't the type that'd be hooked on a street fight, but with "shoot" and "blood being mentioned, I couldn't resist.

And when I walked closer, I saw it. A bald man in his fifties. Laying on the floor with blood around him and a shirtless passer-by beside him, trying to stop the blood flow by bandaging the man's chest with his shirt.

Immediately, my journalism instinct took over, and I began taking pictures with my phone. The scene, the crowd, and the bus stop I'd just walked from.

"Sorry ma'am, what's happening?" I asked an old seller.

She looked at my hand warily, then back at my face before replying.

"I was selling tomato to my customer when I heard a shout. And before we knew what was happening we heard that someone fell down, and he's bleeding. We didn't see who shot him and we didn't hear any gunshot."

"You know mean, he just fell down in the middle of the road?"

"Yes, he was holding his chest."

"Thank you very much, ma'am," I said, already having a sneaking suspicion of what might have led to it and immediately, I sent the story to Barb and Martins.

"Happening live in Lativa", I wrote as a tag to the video, and then proceeded to a close game shop, where I could stay and observe how things would clear out.