I always want to write a love story.

----

I always thought the world was a simple place, you choose to either live or die. But my mom didn't choose to die.

Once I believe the world was a black and white place, you were either born a boy or a girl. You see, I was born a boy. But it's not all black and white.

Not a tinny bit.

I was walking back from my part-time job. It's no fancy thing, just at a restaurant, making burgers. I didn't want to admit it's actually tiring in front of my family, so it's a decent job, good money.

"I guess autumn is about to come huh?"

I tightened my coat and held on to my bag.

The street lights here were brighter than in my hometown, and trees also change their coats depending on the season. The pedestrian road was covered with red lifeless leaves. A man was blowing the leaves into a pile, a blow of wind passed, leaving them all scattered again.

I looked up at the sky. It's pitch dark, not a star to be seen. In my hometown, you couldn't even count the stars. The street was awfully empty as if a ghost town. It's 2 a.m after all. I had gone straight to the restaurant after the classes, so my bag is heavy, my laptop and 3 books I borrowed from the library.

University will end in a year. I'll be a graduate.

I put my hands in the coat's pocket and touched my keychain. This keychain is the only thing I have of my hometown, Con Dao - The Prison Island. I touched the top edge, it's the An Son Temple, slightly below, it's the posts of Historical Con Son Prison, it's a famous tourist attraction. Slightly below, is the 914 Bridge, another famous attraction. From 914 Bridge, you could see Big Hon Tai, and Hon Ba islands. My dad's fishing boat is always docked nearby in the fishing port. And on the edge of the keychain, it's Chim Chim Cape – my village. In Con Dao, the sun rises and sets down in Chim Chim Cape.

The light at the entrance to my dormitory is always lit up. And that guy was there again, just looking at the sky with his cigarette in his left hand, his back's against the dim light. I realized his hair was dyed black now, yesterday it was still blonde. With only a thin t-shirt, he didn't seem to feel the chilly breeze, instead, seemed to have fallen deep in his own thoughts with a red headphone on his ears. He's always here at this hour.

He hadn't noticed me yet. Until I entered the spot where the light actually reached, he looked at me. As our eyes met, we exchanged a nod.

He didn't seem to be about to throw away his cigarette as I opened the door, there's no need to wait for him, or so I thought.

"Hm there's no stars today either"

For a moment, my heart throbbed. His voice was loud, and on a silent night like this, it definitely crept me out. My hands stopped at pulling the door. Instead, I let the handle go, stepped further, and looked up at the sky. It's still pitch black.

"Yeah, it seems like that" I cleared my throat. My throat hurts a little, it seems like the busy weekend day in the restaurant is tiring a bit after all.

"In my hometown, I couldn't even count the stars". He took off his headphone and spoke with an unexpected low voice.

"In my hometown too! Millions, there must be millions of stars!"

I kept looking at the sky, searching.

"Do you know that the longer you look up at the sky, the better your vision becomes?"

I nodded, surprised. He was more talkative than I thought. City people don't know that much about stars. Maybe he's born in the countryside.

"This is because it takes a few minutes for our pupils to dilate to let more light in. But the chemistry of the light detectors in your retina take half an hour or more to adjust, boosting your sensitivity to low light" (1)

Wow, I didn't know that stuff about eyes.

"This is at the cost of accuracy because our night vision is less able to perform fine discrimination and see color".

His voice was sentimental, in contrast with the pure facts he had said.

When standing closer, I found him taller than from far away, and more mature than the low pants he's usually wearing, or the rock long hair. He smelled a bit of sweat, I wondered what kind of job he was working. He exhaled the smoke. The evening was just as chilly.

"And memories of vivid starry nights on long outdoor evenings are quite subjective. The stars only appear brighter because we're out for longer" (2)

He threw away the bud, and only now, turns to me.

"Could you help me open the door?"

That was the first time we actually talked. 

----

(1) (2): reference from The Guardian