Based on "Manhattan Skyline" by a-ha

A jumping white fish skimmed along the sleeves of the Hudson River, determined to leave a mark. It splashed, leaving silvery water plumes in its wake, and bounced again. A dark-skinned man drove it, howling with excitement. He revealed silvery square teeth, adjusting his feet so he could bring feeling in his legs again. The skyline showed itself whenever he looked upwards, smooth metal shining in harsh sun. What a beautiful day to be sailing, walking, anything! A land of promise and goodness. It looked the same when he looked out of his airplane window during the descent. He smiled through the rest of his expedition, when he moored his boat to a dock where two men conversed with cigarettes between their lips.

"Zane, all good?"

"Yup, definitely going to win championships this year," Zane replied.

"I like your confidence, bud. Keep going."

Zane waved goodbye. He couldn't stop grinning. Commuters looked at him strangely, as though happiness was a feeling unheard here. Zane however kept smiling, because what he could achieve might be the prize of a lifetime. He had been burning his blood over sailing, so much his coach feared for him. But he didn't care. Whatever it took to win that title, he had to do it. Zane entered the city, cars spitting fumes congesting the already congested, horns screaming out-of-pitch vocals, and where pedestrians thought crosswalks were nonexistent.

He found himself a Starbucks nesting on the city outskirts. When he entered, coffee beans latched onto his nose, automatically destroying recollections of breakfast he had scarfed down earlier. A strange tingling started in his heart, like yearning, but painted with a sad tone, like he had missed something he would never get back. He ordered a coffee and croissant, pondering the feeling. He felt it before, on the day he had boarded his airplane to New York. It didn't feel like homesickness. Not at all. Longing, that was it. Longing for someone he did not know. Zane furrowed his thick black brows at his thoughts as he reached for his coffee and managed to find a table. The longing remained, leaving Zane more bewildered than ever. He forced scalding coffee down his throat. He sighed, letting the smell of coffee drift into his nose. He lifted the lid and dropped it onto the table, forming a coffee ring on the surface. He closed his eyes, his aching heart reviving calls from his Ma for dinner, and her warm lectures about Zane's future. His tongue jolted when he remembered how her kinche tasted like, warm cracked oats much more delicious than oatmeal he found here. As he remembered his Ma, many other figures in his life emerged, from his grandfather who had the greatest anecdotes, and Ma's friend Abby who always brought Zane an article of clothing which she knitted herself. But one voice impeded the rest, the voice he last heard when he boarded the plane.

Ada. She had been the igniter. Ada, the daughter of a farmer, who wore the smell of coffee beans in her thick black hair. Zane wondered why, above all the days he bought coffee, was reminded of Ada today. So onwards instead of going back to his boat he took a cab to the post office near his apartment, curious if she sent any mail. About four years ago she ceased to send anything, not even a word. He still remembered Ada's neat bold black handwriting, and her soft voice he imagined when he read her letters.

He paid his fare and entered the post office. When he located his mailbox, he was surprised at the sight of only one letter. Usually his mail came in bushels, all fanmail from his recent bronze in 2012's championships. The envelope had been painted sky blue, his name and address written in messy letters. Tearing it open, the scent of coffee overran his nostrils, his heart beating faster. Ada. First time in four years. He took out the paper contained within, a lemon-colored page.

Dear Zane,

I hope you're doing well. Please tell me how sailing is going. I heard you're trying for the championships again! I am so proud of you.

Anyway, I want to catch you up on what happened these past four years. It has been a long time, hasn't it? I have exciting news: I'm got married! His name is Xavier, Zoologist. We met two years ago in that  restaurant we went to when your Ma got flu.

Enclosed is our wedding picture. Please write back, tell me about your adventures. Hopefully we can meet in winter.

Love,
Ada.

His breathing accelerated, letter falling to the floor with a thwip. No, he couldn't believe her. Acting like nothing happened between them. He reached inside the envelope, heart clenching when he pulled out a glossy photograph, the love of his life weaving lips with another man. His Ma stood proudly beside her, hands to her chest in an ironed red dress, wearing purple lipstick even though she vowed to never wear makeup. Zane wanted to scream into the photograph, "Ma, Ada was mine, remember!?" He located the nearest trashcan, determined to crumple it and act like nothing had ever transpired. Then he came to the sudden realization, a realization he wished he had knew before he went to New York in the first place. He pushed the envelope into his jacket.

He exited the post office, gazing at the deep blue sky which swelled with airplanes. He wondered how many aboard have separated from their loved ones to engage on their individual chases for their dreams. For the solitary golden apple hanging on the highest tree. The single light ray diffused into two, running at different speeds in different directions, each bound on their own quest. Nobody warned, Zane chuckled, that tasting the golden apple meant never meeting your light ray ever again.