The sun was high in the clear sky whilst some birds flew by above the urban residence, and the noises of various carpentry tools being used nearby filled the air in the lovely sunday morning.
Somewhere not far away in the middle of all these liveliness exist a modest house, a family of four were busy in trying to keep the house from imploding due to the colorful chaotic breakfast mess that happens everytime whenever the little devil's high on sugar—or commonly known as children in their zoomies state.
"Ryan! Stop running around the house and sit your butt down on the chair now!" The young man taste the warm milk bottle he'd made earlier and set it down on the baby chair table beside an oatmeal bowl, he bend down a little and playfully pinch the toddler adorable cheeks. "Your milk is done princess, and for the love of me could you not play with your food please Gabby?"
A young man in his early twenties stood at the edge of the kitchen, shouting across the table like a frazzle commander in a battlefield. He has short black hair, pair of brown eyes couple with a hint of tiredness in his eyelids, quite a defined jawline, light brown skin, average body build, and stood 178 cm tall—this was Sam, the oldest brother and the reluctant morning babysitter.
Ryan, the ten year old whirlwind, zoomed through the living room and into the kitchen back and forth with a sleek and white paper plane.
Plap
Something wet and slightly sticky splattered against Sam's face—He blinked, it was the damn Oatmeal. Before it could slid down from his face, Sam hurriedly wipe it with a tissue he took on the dinner table.
"Really, Gabby? Did you really have to throw oatmeal on my face right after I tell you not to play with your food?" He sighed, defeated.
"Hehehe~ Yam! Yam!"
Gabby, age three and chaos incarnate, giggled gleefully from her high chair, still holding her spoon like a loaded slingshot.
Sam walked to the sink, cleaned his face with practiced ease, and dried off with a clean towel. Then he crouched down next to Gabby, who tilted her head with the world's most innocent smile.
"Gabby, my sweet sister..." His voice was calm and soft, the kind reserved for precious things. He gently patted her head. "What did I say about throwing food?"
"Uuuu...? Nono?"
"Good girl, Next time, don't do it again, okay? You're my sweet sister. I know you'll behave, want me to feed you the oatmeal now?"
"Yaaa~" she squealed, reaching out with sticky fingers.
From behind, a woman in her 40s sighed and stepped beside Sam, placing a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice on the table.
"You spoil them too much," she muttered, shaking her head. "Sometimes it's okay to be firm, even a little rough you know?"
"But how could I not love a sister this sweet, mom?" Sam said, glancing at his tired looking mom holding a cup of coffee with a smirk.
"Sigh... You really—"
Boom!
The unmistakable sound of something or someone hitting the floor.
"I'm okay, guys!" Ryan's voice called from the floor, arm raised in triumph like a true survivor. But then—plop—a small piece of his tooth fell onto the floor, as if in comedic timing.
Sam blinked. "...Did his tooth just..."
It was then the flip just switched on mom and got cranked into a 100.
"RYAN! I TOLD YOU NOT TO RUN AROUND IN THE HOUSE! OH MY GOD, YOUR TOOTH! COME HERE RIGHT NOW!" She immediately place down the cup of coffee on the dinner table and walk toward the unfortunate Ryan like a final boss.
As she bolted into action, Ryan wide eyed started yelping in fear and fleeing behind the couch like a soldier avoiding an incoming artillery strike.
"Brother! Help me!"
Sam crossed his arms and shook his head in mocked indignation. "I tried to warned you buddy, but you didn't listen. Actions have consequences, now enjoy the lesson yeah?"
"How could you!"
"Yes, yes, I'm pure evil. How sad." Sam sighed melodramatically. But although watching him get 'treated' by the overprotective machine that is his mom would be entertaining, Sam tried to lessen Ryan incoming grilling. "Anyway, mom? Maybe don't yell at him too—"
But then she immediately shot him a death glare that could curdle a milk and turn a steak well done just by looking at it.
Sam raised both hands in fear as cold sweat began to form on his head."Whoa! Look at the time! It's time for Gabby to eat!"
He turned his gaze away from her and immediately turn his attention to Gabby, a few minutes passed while the melody of his mother machine gun of words goin on nonstop in the background at the poor soldier boy Ryan.
After Ryan done getting treated and ears filled to the brim with wisdom bullets, Sam got a deep feeling in his gut it was his turn next by the look at how his mother looking at him like a patient sniper with burning eyes from the corner of his eyes.
Since Gabby's done eating hear meal, sam decided it was time to unleashed his secret move called 'Run the fuck away,' He stood up quickly and immediately grabbed his coat and hat in a flash. "I forgot I got a meeting with my friends, got to go now!" He then waved dramatically and dashed toward the door like an escapee escaping the trenches.
"Wait, brother! Don't leave me—!"
"Where do you think you're going young man? Get back here right now!"
"Ehehehe~ Bwa! Bwa! Bwa~!" Gabby laughed uncontrollably, clapping he tiny oatmeal covered hands.
##########################
It took Sam a few minutes 'walking' from his home to arrive in the park, not long after he arrived a cheerful voice called out to him.
"Hey Sam! Over here!"
A young black woman, probably around 23 years old with long braided hair, waved energetically while swinging back and forth on a rusted swing set.
"There you are," Sam called back, jogging over with a grin. "I thought I'd have to search the whole damn park again like last time."
"Geez! Quit being so dramatic will ya?" She laughed, slowing her swing. "Anyway! Get over here man!"
Sam walked towards her, the sounds of birds chirping mixing with the faint sound of wet sneakers against the soggy ground. The park smelled like damp earth—definitely from the rain before the sunrise.
He sat down beside her on the neighboring swing, which gave a tired creak beneath his weight. Jessie gradually came to a stop.
"Soo..." She began, turning to him with a curious look. "How are you doing lately? I haven't seen you at uncle Patrick place in awhile. What's up?"
"Well..." Sam hesitated. "No big reason, I guess. Just... Didn't feel like making pizza for a bit."
Jessie raised a skeptical eyebrow, then stood up with a small frown, she walk over and stop right in front of him while crossing her arms.
"Hey! Don't lie to me, Sam. I thought we were tight! C'mon, spill the beans!"
"No, seriously," he insisted, raising both hands. "I just... Lost the drive, that's all."
A silent pause filled the air for a few awkward seconds.
Then Jessie tilted her head with a sly grin, the next thing that came out of her mouth was something Sam didn't expected. "Hey Sam, do you still remember the time when you confessed to that one girl in highschool—?"
Sam jolted up, eyes wide. He slapped a hand over her mouth. "Okay! Okay—i lied! Please don't finish that sentence, Jessie." Sam look around frantically to make sure no one else besides them were present.
She leaned back, escaping his grasp with a playful smirk. "I knew something was up! Come on now, out with it. Chop chop!"
Sam exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck as if something heavy were pushing him down to the earth.
"I... I'm quitting uncle Patrick's place."
"That's it?" She blinked dumbfounded. "Are you for real? Or are you pulling my legs here?"
"Well, yes. I mean—no? Ugh, it's more complicated than that." He started pacing back and forth a little. "Look, getting a job is kinda hard now let's be real yeah? And back then when nobody else wanted to hire me, uncle Patrick took a chance. I didn't know jack shit about pizza, but he taught me everything from making my first pizza dough to customer service to managing money." Sam sat back on the swing, his back hunch a little looking like a defeated man. "And now that I'm leaving suddenly... It feels like a betrayal to him."
He looked down at his hands, his expression helpless. "But I have to... My family needs more than what I'm making there. I can't keep doing this forever... I need to move forward. It's just—damn, it's hard."
Without warning, Jessie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Warmth spread through Sam's chest. He blinked, caught off guard—but he didn't move away. Somehow, the hug made everything feels a little less heavy. And the fact his head on between the heavenly mountain helps too.
"There, there," Jessie murmured. "You okay now?"
Sam didn't answer immediately.
"The world's not out to get you, you know? And whatever you're feeling is right now is normal Sam," she added softly and caress his head gently. "But you still have to keep moving on, don't worry the world is not out to get you." She giggled. "Just breathe, Sam... Breathe."
"Inhale... Exhale..." He let the air in and out slowly, and fortunately it did helps even if just a little. "Thanks, Jessie. And... I'm sorry for unloading like that so suddenly at you."
"Unloading? I didn't hear a thing. Did you hear anything? I for one, damn sure didn't." She replied playfully and whistles in the air.
He chuckled, finally smiling again.
"So... are you good now? Or are you gonna hug me like this forever?"
"Ah—sorry."
Sam released the higy, cheeks a little red.
Jessie gave him a small smile. "Here's a word of advice for ya, just talk to uncle Patrick. Be honest, he will understand—he always does, that pizza man. I mean it's better than suddenly disappearing right?"
"Yeah... Yeah, I will do that. Thanks, really, I mean it."
"Sheeshh! How many 'thanks' are you gonna give me in a day?" She teased "if you're that grateful, treat me to dinner sometimes."
Hearing this, Sam grinned. "Noted."
The mood had lightened. The conversation drifted from serious matters to silly hypotheticals—like whether you'd float or not if you covered your entire body with cooking oil during a rainstorm. They talked for what felt like the whole entire day, jumping from personal stories to pure weird and crazy nonsense. If not for the fading light of dusk reminding them of time, it was hard to say when they'd have stopped talking like there's no tomorrow.
Later that evening, Sam found himself walking aimlessly around town. He didn't have any particular destination in mind or a plan in this regard, but the aimlessness he felt... It feels refreshing.
The town was alive in its own quiet way—street performers played near the central fountain, music floating into the air like a calming incense. Kids ran past, laughing and yelling, while adults watched with warm smiles or munched on street food. For a while, Sam simply walked and observed, letting the rhythm of life soak in smoothly.
Eventually, he wandered to the fountain and sat on its edge. The music still played behind him, soft and steady.
Suddenly, the street performer he noticed earlier approached, a guitar filled with various stickers slung across his back, a backward white hat sat on his head complimenting his long ginger hair and the warm and friendly wide smile on his face.
"Hey there buddy, why the long face? Got your heart broken or something?"
"...huh? What?" Sam blinked, caught off guard.
The man chuckled, scratching his head. "Ah, sorry—didn't mean to startle ya. It's just... You looked like someone who needs a little to talk to."
"Yeah... Uh, no, I'm okay. But thanks man, just organizing my some things in my mind." Sam replied frankly feeling a bit weirded out by the suddenness of the situation.
"Hey listen if it's a about a girl you don't need to think much about it—i mean hey you lost a fish or two, but there's a whole sea out there, right? Maybe even some weird sea creatures too!" He laughed at his own joke, then pulled a can of soda from his fanny bag.
"Want one? Zero sugar soda. Can't beat the classics."
Sam accepted it, still a bit confused. "Thanks. And sorry if this sounds rude, but... Why are you doing this? I mean, thanks for the soda and all, but... What's the catch?"
"No worries man. You just reminded me of myself back in my 'Romeo' days. Girls chasing me around, me thinking I had it all figured out—until one broke my heart, and boom! I went full on espresso depresso for a long time and made quite a bit of wild choices in life."
"Her loss, I guess. From one homie to another, you play a sick ass guitar and, hey, not bad in the face department either."
Sam popped the coke tab, but then as he opened it—bubbles erupting over his fingers in a stinging spray.
"Classic soda, never failed to make a mess of my hand." Sam said unfazed, shaking his hand.
"Bahahaha! You're alright, man." The guy grinned wide, amused. "But enough about me. Let's talk about you, so who's the girl that's got you looking like you're about to challenge the whole world to a duel? Or what's the deal?"
Sam chuckled. "It's not about a girl, actually. Just... Work stuff. I'm thinking about leaving my job. It's hard because it means walking away from someone who helped me a lot—but I need to do it for my family."
The man's expression shifted, clearly not expecting it. His expression became softer and understanding now. "Damn, I didn't expect that. Are you sure you want to talk about it? You don't have to you if you don't want to you know."
"No, it's alright," Sam said. "It's a heavy choice, but one I have to make... No matter how difficult."
The performer nodded thoughtfully. "This might sounds weird coming from a random dude with a guitar, but if life's taught me anything... It's this: follow your heart. Go all in. That way, even if it's hard, you won't regret it later."
Sam looked down at the can in his hand. "But what if I can't do it? What if I try and still fail?"
The performer tilted his hat down slightly, a half serious smirk appear on his face. "Then you do what you can, boy. Just don't lock yourself into one's idea of who you're supposed to be, life's bigger than that."
"Well just think about it okay? Now I gotta get back performin, can't take a break too long or else got no crowd to please." He chuckled and turned around, with a dramatic flair he adjusted his outfit, took up his mic, and turned to the small crowd by the fountain.
"Laaadiesss and gentlemen!" He shouted cheerfully, "Tonight's song goes out to all of you brave souls out there, trying your best just to make it through! Let's light it up!"
Sam laughed. "Man, what a guy huh?"
He stayed for a bit, listening to the man sing with infectious energy. For the first time in a while, the weight on his chest felt lighter. When the song ended, Sam stood, gave the man a wave and a quiet thank you, and made his way toward the pizza place.
It was time to talk to uncle Patrick.