What's Ongoing Can't Be Forever

Summer seemed to drag on indefinitely, even though it was time for winter to take over. People were dressed as if they were living in the heart of Antarctica, which made Siberia jittery.

"Do people really have no sense of the season?" asked a young woman, most likely in her 30s, with ash brown hair and barely visible streaks of white on the front.

"They appear to have lost track of time," Siberia observed as she sipped her now-cold coffee.

"My my, people are going both ways with time," the young woman said, settling in. "Can I please have a cold coffee with a plain egg sandwich?"

"coming right up Ma'am."

"I've lived in this vicinity for almost three years, and I haven't seen you or perhaps we never happened to cross paths, have we?" the young woman asked, keen to strike up a conversation, or so Siberia supposed.

"No, you're right, I'm new here, House 209." Even though Siberia was responding specifically, her thoughts were elsewhere. She appeared to be lost, confused, and unaware, but she was still very much alive.

"Haha, you see, I know just about everyone here, so I figured you were definitely new."

Siberia didn't respond, not because she didn't want to, but because she wasn't sure what to say. She was terrible at striking up a conversation with strangers, let alone starting one, and it made her feel uneasy.

Feeling self-conscious, the young woman scratched her head. "Dana, Dana Cocheque"

"Siberia", she spoke with an apologetic look.

Dana said no more and began to dig in her freshly cooked meal.

Siberia took this as a chance to escape the awkward atmosphere and walked briskly to the exit, not sparing a glance back in case she made the woman feel guilty or in case she felt guilty for being rude. 'How can it be considered rude though? I just left as many people in movies would do so', thought Siberia as she made her way down the street towards the library.

She inhaled the smell of old books that never fails to captivate her. The sound of the wooden floor, as she made her way to one of the shelves, was music to her ears. The air inside, felt fresh, quiet and calm. She felt serene now that she was out of that snug and packed café.

"Haha Siberia dear, right on time", an old man, in his 60s spoke with a jolly smile.

Siberia returned the smile, heading to the counter. "Good to see you Mr. Joy"

"You're lucky enough", he said, handing her the comic, 'UGLY CROWN'.

"OH!", a loud gasp escaped Siberia's mouth. "Is this volume 30, no way, it's finally here"

'Yea, unfortunately it's the only copy we got, someone donated it here"

"Donated? Really?", she looked in awe, running her hand over the book and inhaling its sweet smell.

"Yea, feel lucky kid, it's not everyday someone donates anything here, well to be exact, not everyone read books"

This time Siberia was smiling like crazy. "If I pay you as much as this book cost....."

"No no, keep it for free", Mr. Joy spoke, waving his hands as if flying a bug away. "It's your birthday either way, consider this a gift from your old pal"

"Ahjussi!", Siberia hugged Mr. Joy before leaving, with a wide smile on her face.

Siberia made her way back home, the bright smile vanishing in thin air, looking gloomy again. She looked around as she walked, observing the people that passed by, looking all jolly. 'Do they never get tired of smiling?', she thought as she looked down to fix her periwinkle skirt made out of tulle and silk and stopped by in front of a store, looking at her reflection, toned arms looking more muscular in her plain sleeveless white top.

Exhaling sharply she continued, oblivious to her surrounding until Siberia heard the ambulance. A man lying in his own pool of blood, people gathered around, the medical team, the police, kids, all gathered.

"How unfortunate", spoke a boy beside her.