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(Random story Pt. I to be polished)

To the us, there is always the other. Such an other Pat was to those around us. He was born two minutes after me before dawn of July fourth, 2008. 18 years of his presence in the community, and his dissonant combination of dark skin and smooth Shanghainese still startles others on the daily. How did you learn it? Where are you from? Your accent is so good! This daily barrage flooded his ears since he was young.

Fast forward to now, he also could not stop groups of young middle-schoolers, confident and cocky, approaching him with a thick pretend west coast accent, expecting him to reciprocate in their learned slangs and smiles. He saw through these faces at a young age, grouping them into one person: the compatriot of his who would do anything to seem foreign, exotic: not-yellow. He never ignored these people and in his own amicable and harmless way, learned the ways of his distant brothers in America and entertained them so as to entertain himself along the way too. Behind his mind he quietly hated them and wondered how he could reduce the high-raised eyebrows and attention-begging smiles from excess to moderacy.

Towards animosity, he showed kindness simply because of the sheer volume of it that he received and that he would not survive in retaliation since he lacked the instrument or the companion to do so. I was the only one.

He lashed out one time, though. Day of our 15^th birthday, we ran and ran in the rain. What was annoying to others was merciful to us: to have the streets this empty and the plowing rain drowning out all sounds, sights, and perception of time – we became wet as the Earth and the sky. The streets seemed to endlessly extend until one person, whose smile reeked of devilish inquisition curiousity started running with us. In just one second, Pat and I looked at each other and I saw the color in Pat’s eyes darken. His smooth smiled disappeared and he stiffened his shoulders, matured his posture and walked up, preparing to continue the same ritual as always. A businessman-like smile appeared on Pat as they started to make conversation. Of course, the kid was not interested in me, who looked like him. In the rain I could not make out what the two said. The rain continued even harder and the mist had completely engulfed me, block my vision of the other two. It was about 10 stressful seconds before I laid my eyes on the boy, rolling in pain on the ground, a mark of slap emanating starkly from his left cheek. Pat stood over him, finally condescending as he wished for but only for a few seconds before his young well-intended self sprung back to life in panic. He committed the crime that others have always committed towards him.

There is a very thin line in between animosity expressed sardonically and affection expressed ignorantly.