Inside a dark apartment in an old building, Zein sat on the floor amidst a chaotic mess. Trash was strewn everywhere, clothes were scattered, and the stench of garbage, mold, and unwashed laundry filled the air. But he didn't care; he had no desire to move.
The curtains were drawn tight, drowning the place in darkness. His messy black hair fell over eyes that were vacant—devoid of any spark of life. The place felt like a filthy lair, or perhaps a home abandoned by its people.
Then, Zein heard a knock at the door. He didn't move, choosing to ignore it, but the knocking persisted until he was forced to stand. He stumbled toward the door with faltering steps, and as he opened it, the sudden glare of outside light forced his eyes shut.
Once his vision adjusted, he recognized the two figures standing before him: his mother and his older brother. Without a word, Zein turned back inside.
The two followed him, their eyes scanning the room. His brother's face twisted in disgust at the sight of the place, while his mother rushed to the windows to pull back the curtains and clear a path through the trash. They both looked at Zein, who had slumped back onto the floor, leaning against the edge of the sofa, staring at a blank TV with soul-less eyes.
This sight ignited his brother's temper; he marched toward him, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him up, shouting in frustration and anger:
"What the hell are you doing, you idiot? How long are you going to stay like this over a girl? She's just a cheating scoundrel! Just forget her and move on!"
But Zein didn't answer or react, as if he were nothing more than an empty shell. Seeing this, his brother let go and stepped back. Despite his irritation at Zein's behavior, he was deeply worried about his younger brother and the state he had spiraled into.
Then, his mother approached him, her heart breaking for her son and his condition. She placed a bag filled with containers of home-cooked food beside him. She began to straighten his clothes and gently brushed the strands of hair away from his face, looking at him with a mixture of kindness, tenderness, and profound sadness.
"My dear boy, please eat. I can't bear to see you like this," she pleaded. "If it's about that girl, she doesn't deserve you, so don't give her another thought. And if it's about being fired from work, you can always work with your brother."
But he didn't answer her. He remained silent, staring into the void, forcing his mother to sigh and stand up to leave with his brother.
"We have to go now," she said. "Your father is still ill, and I must stay with him. Please, visit your father; he asks about you a lot."
After that, the two of them left, closing the door behind them and leaving him alone once more with the darkness.
The next day, Zein woke up on the floor, his body aching. He looked at the food containers his mother had brought, still sitting in their place, untouched. He ignored them, got up, and went to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror: a pale face, dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, and a growing beard. Yet, he didn't even try to change any of it. He returned to the sofa, but just as he was about to sit down, he heard a knock at the door. He ignored it and sat anyway. The knocking continued, but he didn't open up.
Then, he heard the sound of something thin sliding through the door slot. Looking over, he noticed it was a letter. He stood, walked to the door, and picked it up. The address was correct, but the name was wrong:
"To Mark"
He searched for a return address but found none. He stared at the envelope for a moment before tossing it onto the floor and returning to his seat. There was no sender address, so he couldn't return it—not that he would have, anyway.
He sat there for a long while, staring at the ceiling, until a text message arrived from his ex-girlfriend:
"Zein, please listen to me. I didn't want to betray you, it was a moment of weakness…"
He glanced at the notification but didn't bother opening his phone to read the rest. Instead, he switched it off and tossed it onto the sofa, away from him. He sighed, burying his face in his hands. Then, he remembered the paper letter that had arrived. Since he had nothing else to do, and despite the letter not being his, curiosity got the better of him. He convinced himself that he was only reading it to see if it contained something important so he could tell Mark—if he ever found him. It wasn't as if he could send it back to the sender, anyway.
He stood up and rummaged through the mess until he found it. He pulled it out, dusted it off a bit, and returned to the sofa. He muttered to himself in a voice barely audible, his words sharp with cold, dry sarcasm:
"Who even sends letters like this nowadays? What century is this person living in?"
He opened the envelope, pulled out the letter, and began to read:
[Hi Mark, I know you won't read this letter, so I'm going to take the liberty of writing whatever I want. Today, I woke up early because my cat, Nana, jumped right onto my stomach. It was painful!]
Zein raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"This isn't a letter; it's a diary entry," he thought. "Who writes their diary as a letter? Was it sent by mistake?"
He thought it was all nonsense and that there was nothing important in it, so he might as well throw it away... but something stopped him. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe his own loneliness. So, he continued reading:
[But I couldn't stay mad at her cute face. You know how spoiled she is; she always gets what she wants. She always wins against me.]
Zein muttered sarcastically, "Oh, that must be tough—being pushed around by a mere cat. Judging by the style and the clean handwriting, it must be a girl... Just what kind of rose-colored world is she living in?"
He went back to the letter:
[Even though she acts like an arrogant queen, I still love her. I mean, who could hate a cute cat who just wants attention? Anyway, after that, I had to play with her, feed her, and brush her fur. Once she finally fell asleep, I was at last able to have breakfast. There was nothing in the fridge except eggs; I think I need to go to the market.]
When she mentioned food, his gaze instinctively drifted to the food containers that were still sitting there, untouched. Then, he returned his eyes to the letter:
[After eating, I changed my clothes and left the house to go for a short walk since it's a day off. During my walk, I heard an old man grumbling and shouting again. I don't know what it was about this time—you know how he gets annoyed over the trivial things—but I'm sure that deep down, he's a good person; he just doesn't know how to express it.]
Once again, he scoffed at her gentle words and shook his head.
"A grumbling old man who's actually 'kind'? What kind of nonsense is she talking about?"
[Oh, and right! I saw Bobby the dog again today. I mean, he's been away with his family for a while, and his face is still as weird as ever.]
He leaned back on the sofa, re-reading her words and muttering,
"A weird dog? Now I'm actually curious to see what he looks like."
[But he's sweet and wants to play with me and Nana, though she just ignores him. Poor thing!]
Zein sighed softly.
"She really describes everything as 'cute.' And her royal cat ignoring him? Classic and predictable."
[After playing with him, I went to the library, but the usual kind old lady wasn't there. Instead, there was this annoying man... I really don't like him.]
Zein hummed at her words.
"I wonder what he did to make a girl who describes everything so kindly say something like that about him. He must be truly awful."
[Anyway, I ignored him and went to my usual spot. I read some novels and books like 'How to Understand Your Cat'—it seems wonderful!]
He ran his hand through his black hair, pushing it away from his eyes so he could see better.
"Does a book with that name even exist? But then again, I should have expected that by now."
[Later on, after eating and finishing my battle with the broccoli, my brother left. After feeding Nana, I decided to clean the house... it was a mistake. I don't know how long it's been since this place was cleaned; it looks like a century has passed, or as if it survived World War I and II only to be abandoned.]
Zein lay back on the sofa, still holding the letter in his hand.
"You must be quite careless if he can steal your key every time. I just hope a thief doesn't break into your house someday."
[But at least this time he bought some food for himself. However, there was broccoli... you know how much I hate it. It's disgusting! Yes, yes, I know you'll say I'm not a child and that I should eat all my food, but it's just... inedible. I don't know if it's a plant grown in the depths of hell or what, but I'm certain it's a diabolical plot by someone to torture us with this taste.]
Zein coughed, nearly laughing at the nonsense he was reading.
"Yes, it must be. Broccoli grown in the gardens of hell, sent to torture us... She's truly living in her own fantasy, but at least she realizes she's acting like a child."
[Anyway, after eating and finishing my battle with the broccoli, my brother left. After feeding Nana, I decided to clean the house... it was a mistake. I don't know how long it's been since this place was cleaned; it looks like a century has passed, or as if it survived World War I and II only to be abandoned.]
At the mention of the mess and cleaning, he looked around his own room.
"Yeah... it does look like a war zone in here."
[If you were here, I would have left the whole mess to you... Anyway, after deciding to ignore the chaos as usual, night fell, and I had eggs for dinner again. I totally forgot to go to the market. After that, I took a bath, Nana and I got ready for bed, and then we turned in. The end. Goodnight!]
Zein stared at the words for a while.
"It seems Mark was someone important... but in the end, she still forgot to go to the market. What an idiot."
After he finished reading, he placed the letter on the table and lay down quietly. He felt as though he had actually talked to someone, learning details he had never even asked for. Even though he thought she was a fool, he felt a strange sense of calm that he couldn't quite explain. Suddenly, his stomach growled, announcing his hunger. He stood up, opened the containers, and began to eat. But all he could think about was the letter. And when he found broccoli in his food, her words flashed in his mind, making him shake his head. He muttered once more:
"Idiot."
Written by :S.T