Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 234

Last Love in East Paris Shanghai Singapore International School, Khadka, Ajendra - 16 T he cold April winds howled into my face as I stood on the edge of the soaring Victorian building known as the Customs House. I looked down at all the concessions like a bird. My heart and my mind raced like the city used to. A kaleidoscope of memories flooded my eye lid. All.. all of it ca..came back, but she nev… never will. I tried to push the thought back, but it demands attention. All I see is her face. Her hazel brown eyes staring right into mine, her short brown finger waved hair. Her smile that could light up all hearts. Above all she was the only who accepted me as who I am. An orphan. I still vividly recall that July 9 in the year 1920. The pinewood floor gave a creek as I paced through the empty living room. I eyed the two Birchwood cabinets standing tall against the cream white walls. I stare at all the memories they hold. There is only one thing that could burn them, the marble fireplace crammed in-between. Above hangs a picture in a frame. An image of Chen An ‘s parents. Tired of standing I collapsed into one of the two chair made out of Maplewood, I reached across to turn on the radio that rested on top a Birchwood table. The lively beats of jazz music erupted out across the house. I relaxed but I still had my eyes on the door in font of me waiting for her to burst through the door. Then almost as if the ending of the song was the queue. The door gradually opened to reveal a worn out but alive Chen An. I stare at the clock above the pictures. It was 10:30. As late as she was, all my anxiety faded to black. I rushed to her to asked her if she was alright. She responded coldly “I am fine I just need to rest” then she walked on. Something smelled fishy, or was it that hypnotic scent that lingered in the air that trailed along with her. As she walked away towards her room I yelled out the words that would changed my life. “You were smuggling opium! At the sound of “opium” she turned to face me. Her face lit with dismay, “Did you just accuse me of smuggling Opium?” she cried. My mind raced to find the words but all I managed to stuttered was “I…I…I… didn’t...”. Cutting me she howled “don’t deny the words that you spoke! I heard it all!” She stomped towards me until our brown eyes met. “It’s not like you have never came home at an odd hour at night!” She declared under her breath as she turned the nob of the radio off. Trying put out the fire, I calmly said “Mine is strictly business related. Unlike your reason that is illegal and a play with fire.” She pushed my chest and mockingly said “yea, we have a thousand Yuan because of your hard work while I smuggle drugs. Oh, I forgot that we still can’t afford our own house yet. I wonder why? Maybe because I spent all of it buying opium, paying off gangsters and gambling…” “Stop” I called out but she blabbered on. I repeated again but she ignored me. Memories of the orphanage came to my head. “STOP!! I screamed at the top of my lungs as I slammed my hands against the wall. She stood as if she had seen a ghost and then I saw her crooked smile. I think She knew that she had finally broken me.