By Angelica Liu
It is a beautiful morning, beautiful but sentimental. For the first time this year, she notices that the heart-shaped leaves on the tree that is framed by her bedroom window have taken on their autumn hues. Through the gaps between the blinds, she can see them shine in the sunlight as radiant as golden coins. Their lovely organic design possesses a kind of wistful fullness, and their illuminant skin gives off a subtle cinnamon aroma as they bake under the autumn sun. The way they align along the slender branches is as though they are offering themselves up just for her to gaze upon. This is a perfect moment, she thinks, in a place where I do not belong.
The sunlight passing through the tree casts a dabbled pattern across her room. She moves slowly as though trying to hold onto this moment as long as possible. Following her morning preparations, she slowly slips out of her nightwear and puts on a common blouse and jeans and walks out of her townhouse home. The path leading to the gate is scattered with crunchy, amber leaves. Workers have given up the daily maintenance of this secluded complex. Now they only come every few days with their deafening leaf blowers and lawn mowers. Her own patio is also covered with a thick layer of dry leaves, reminding her of an old dream that had repeatedly visited her the year before she came here. In the dream, she is seated at a small table on the patio of a quaint little coffee shop. She is reading a book. A tree standing near the patio, unseen by her, sheds its leaves. Fallen, golden leaves slowly pile up at her ankles. A sense of déjà vu both from then and now pervades her thoughts.
Since her arrival here, at this distant place in this universe, the vivid dream, that was once a regular feature in her nightly landscape, no longer makes its appearance It now is nothing more than a pleasant memory. She muses, Maybe, this is a sign. Maybe such a dream will return when the time comes for a new journey.
On the sides of the winding footpath are two-story townhouses lined one after another, all painted in white. This is a village for multi-universe travelers. Each visitor occupies one of the houses alone. It is impossible to travel across one universe to another with a companion. Such travel is always a solo adventure. The first few months of living here were exhilarating. As a temporary visitor in a world she would soon leave behind, she enjoyed a sort of thrilling intensity, a kind of voyeuristic excitement enabled by the shroud of anonymity. But, now, just as she marvels at the changing of the season from summer to autumn, she is aware that a subtle change is taking place within her as well.
The differences between one universe and another are very superficial. Once you accept the difference, she says to herself, you can live anywhere. It’s just that simple. After she had lived here for almost a year, she had learned to blend in, but now the initial exhilaration that was so thrilling has slowly diminished. Now she feels like her time here has worn old. It starts to feel like…home.
She swipes her residential card through a slot on a machine at the gate. A camera on top of it flashes a red light and turns toward her. Her personal information appears on its screen: “Welcome, Guest 744771. Today is the 498th day of your visit. Your remaining time is: 24 hours.
She turns the handle on the gate and the lock clicks open. She walks out and stands at the roadside waiting. Before long a black Honda Accord arrives and pulls up to the curb next to her. She opens the door and slides in. A man wearing a pair of dark glasses sits in the driver’s seat. The man turns and smiles, “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere you can hide me.”
“Where is your luggage?”
“I don’t need any.”
The car drives off, and from a tree covered with golden hearts, a single leaf falls gently to the earth.
* * *
Angelica Liu is from Hangzhou, China. She currently attends California State University where she is pursuing a master’s degree in creative writing. Even though she teaches English, and reads English literature in English, up to enrolling in graduate school, she had never visited an English-speaking country. She possesses a deep and abiding fondness for the English language and writing in English is a major theme in her life. She is enchanted by the descriptive power found in English and enjoys writing for an English-speaking audience. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, an accomplished poet, and the author of a popular Chinese Blog.