The city hums around me, neon lights buzzing, cars weaving through the streets like rivers of fire.
But inside this small house, the world feels smaller.
Quieter.
But it feels like home.
Warm, soft, peaceful.
Mae's in the kitchen, the smell of pad Thai filling the air.
She calls out, "Eat before it gets cold."
I sit at the table, watching her move with practiced ease, a rhythm I forgot existed.
She asks about work, about friends, about the city.
I give her the usual answers, the ones that sound like I'm okay.
She doesn't press.
"Are you seeing anyone?" she asks quietly, as if she already knows the answer.
I shake my head, but inside, my heart twists.
"No," I say. "Not yet."
And I don't think I ever will.
After all, they all die.
I've locked my heart.
I've loved and failed, and loved again… and failed again.
Just then, the doorbell rings.
It's Khaotung, my friend from the neighborhood, always with a grin that makes the world seem lighter.
"Ready to get back into the city life?" he jokes, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
I smile, grabbing my jacket.
"Yeah. Let's do it."
Mae smiles. I know she's happy I'm going out with friends.
"Have fun, but don't drink too much, Jeff," she advises, wiping her hands on a towel.
Outside, the city lights beckon loud, wild, and full of promises.
For a few hours, maybe, I'll be just another face in the crowd.
No past. No pain.
Just the music and the night.
Khaotung rides fast through the streets, the wind whipping against our faces.
The cold air stings my cheeks, but I enjoy it.
It doesn't hurt ,it grounds me. Reminds me I'm alive.
When we reach the club, Khaotung throws me a wink as I swing my leg off the bike.
I roll my eyes and follow him inside.
The club is low-lit and pulsing.
People are scattered between the bar and the dance floor…. ladyboys, gay boys, pretty girls, cool guys.
Most are only just starting to drink.
The night is still young.