she would always look at me and she would say




Some people consider it the ultimate question. To some, their sole reason for living to discover the answer to this question. It doesn’t bother some. These individuals, however, do not fall under any of those groups, for they already know the answer.

Traffic blared around the silvery couple standing on the awning of the florist’s shop; tires splashing through puddles, engines growling, the occasional angry honk of a horn. Rain poured from clouds dark and angry, clouds wanting to make the world as miserable as they were by dousing human folk in water – the only way to vent their pessimism. The sleek cars driving bumper to bumper down the busy street shone brilliantly in the fluorescent glow of the storefronts, raindrops rolling off them as if they were ducks ... Big, fast, metal ducks with tires for feet and doors for wings.

The boy grinned a snaggle-toothed grin at the girl next to him, flicking cigarette ash on the unsuspecting people below, paying them no mind. They couldn’t see them, anyhow. He told the girl of his duck analogy, and she gave him a quirky little look and pushed her hair away from her face, taking a deep drag on her own cigarette before calling him an ass, good-naturedly, of course. He loved the weather and the sky, that was what he cared about. What the temperature was, whether or not it was going to rain, or would the sun come out or not. The television in their apartment was perpetually tuned in to the weather network. He wished more people cared, because it was fascinating.

They watched with mild pity and strong amusement at the Vancouverites below them, side-stepping around the wooden boxes of flowers out on display, dressed in dark clothes buttoned and zipped to the throat, collars turned up against cheeks turned pink by the cold. Their umbrellas were being ripped inside out by the wind, and several small scuffles ensued over injuries caused by just that. Wet hair stuck to the back of necks and the sound of numerous angry grumbles was a chorus over the crowd.

Fifteen minutes and four cigarettes later, there was no end in sight to the autumn downpour. The ginger-haired girl on the green and white canvas awning scowled disdainfully at the surging mass of commuters on the sidewalk below as she lobbed the filter of her cigarette at them. She proceeded to call them some sort of cruel name, addressing them as a whole.

“You’re so cynical,” the boy laughed at her, a hand raised to adjust his sunglasses, useless in the downpour. “Lighten up, sis, there’s nothing they can do about it.”

“Don’t be such a Positive Pete,” she sneered, slipping a pack of menthols from the pocket of her jeans just enough to flick the lid and tug another one out. “Makes me sick.”

Her brother simply laughed and stepped closer, throwing his arms around her. “You’re lying!” he claimed cheerfully, sounding very sure of himself. “I could never make you sick!”

“Je- Get off!” She stumbled back. Her silvery, transparent hand pulled her lighter from her pocket and she waved it in front of his face, wrenching her shoulders back to get his arms off her. “Don’t make me set you on fire, twerp!”

He laughed merrily, pressing his face to the crook over her neck, thick camo jacket cold against his cheek. He raised his left foot, over sized sneaker hanging off, exposing a strip of his sock to the rain, before he lowered it again and raised the other one. He repeated this a few times, creating an odd marching pattern, swaying his sister back and forth. She soon gave up her struggle and sighed in defeat, staying limp in his arms with a hand at her mouth, cigarette between her stained fingers. The rocking back and forth soon became a spin, causing them both to lose balance and bump into the brick wall of the building behind them, then back out, off the awning.

The boy looked down below them at the myriad of wet umbrellas and wet hair and wet coats and wet concrete and with one hand around his younger sister, he raised his other one straight over his head and snagged two thin power lines with his gloved fingers. The surge of electricity he’d been conditioned to expect never came and he soon relaxed a little, crushing his sister to him. The lines did not give way and break. “You’re one lucky sonuvabitch,” she remarked, sounding slightly impressed, but not very. She squirmed. “Not that it matters.”

“Not anymore!” The boy laughed some more, looking out into traffic. A big city bus was sitting in traffic among the other cars at the curb, and if he were to swing a little, there was no doubt in his mind that he could reach it. He started building momentum, ignoring the indignant huffs of the girl in his arms. The light at the corner was still red when his sneaker slammed into the side of the bus, though no sound was made. “On the count of three, hold on tight, okay?” He kept swinging his feet back and forth, back to the awning, forwards to the bus. Back to the awning, then to the bus. His spine curved accordingly.

“You’re fucking nuts,” she scoffed.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter anymore!” And with that he flew forwards, out towards the bus. His shoes hit and kicked against the windows and his sister clung to his middle, face buried in his side as his arms scrabbled to find a hold on the smooth roof of the bus. The fact that the bus had started moving didn’t hinder him much because he managed to scramble on top, pulling the girl with him. “You hurt?” he asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” she drawled, glaring at the wet cigarette she now held between her fingers. She threw it down, letting it bounce, soggy, on the bus once before she drew her legs underneath her, sitting cross-legged. Wind rushed through their hair as the bus rolled down thin packed streets, between apartment buildings and pubs, around laundromats and comic shops. Already smoking again, the girl cast a sideways glance at her brother, young face hidden behind big dark glasses. Behind the silvery film of his body, she watched trees that lined the road go by, nearly withered and dying from the trash disposed of in their soil. Her brother caught her gaze and held it, grinning at her with horridly crooked teeth. He didn’t say anything for a few long moments, looking through her as she was to him, seeing the open signs of storefronts glowing behind glass.

“See? What’d I tell ya?” He put his arm around her and shook playfully. She hunched. “This isn’t so bad.”



back to archive ~ <3