The eyes of the boy looked out at the grand city of New York. The dazzling towers brought beauty to many, but for him they were only an annoyance. He had no interest in corporate towers. He seemed to be searching for something—or someone.
He looked down at the pedestrians. The day was bright, the sky was blue, and the air was quiet and still. Footsteps echoed through the streets. Cars rumbled, engines shifting, wheels carrying them forward along the city's roads. Drivers pressed on toward their destinations. The day was halfway through, though the light of the sun had only just begun.
He watched closer. Soon he noticed a man in a blue suit decorated with ornate designs. The man's presence suggested he saw the world differently than most.
A beggar stopped him, smiling faintly. Before the man could say a word, the rich man walked past without a glance. No pity. No recognition. Not even the faintest pause.
The sight revealed a truth: a world that did not care for the poor or the insignificant. To the powerful, they were nothing more than flies.
...
Next he saw an old lady who seemed lost. A taxi had dropped her off in the wrong place. She asked for help, but her voice was drowned out by the noise of the city. The chaos was too strong for a frail mind struggling to keep pace with the new world.
Then he noticed a mother with her children. She held their hands, smiling as they walked. Their lives had just begun.
Such a smile will not last forever. The children lived only because of their mother's love. But love is not everlasting. Love belongs to this world—and in this world all things die, for all things are living.
I see lives bending like willows, chasing indulgence, seeking only themselves. I see skyscrapers rising high, and I wonder—what meaning is there in building such things?
His thoughts stirred more questions.
...
"There you are, Ash."
The sweet voice carried rhythm and care in every word.
"Hello, Ms. Emily," he said.
"I knew I would find you on the roof again. What are you doing up here, Ash my boy?"
"Just looking. Nothing really." His smirk and short reply carried little, but also much.
"You always say that. It seems to me you're searching for something." She rested a hand on her waist, her face questioning.
Her blonde hair touched her shoulders. Her pale skin and pearl-blue eyes reminded Ash of her place in the orphanage.
She was a volunteer. A teacher. Though no older than thirty, her kindness stood out. Kind… how kind she is. But also very annoying.
"No. Why would I be looking for something?" he muttered, staring at the ground, afraid his expression would betray his thoughts.
A moment later he added, "Even if I was, why would I look on the roof? Why not the ground?"
"Maybe because you're afraid," she said. "Maybe you don't really want to find whoever you're looking for."
"Shut up. You don't know anything. You're just a new caregiver. Stop trying to be nice. You'll leave once you find someone, right? You'll leave like everybody else."
His words were heavy with anger, yet restrained by emotion.
"Ash, I would never leave. Come here."
Before she could reach him, he slipped past her and walked to the roof's exit.
At the door, he whispered—not to her, not to himself, but to the world:
"Why does the world lie, when all who live in it can see only falseness?"