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The room is starting to feel like Mono’s room. He’s getting used to it, but he still half-expects that he’ll have to make a run for it sooner or later. In this unpredictable world full of monsters, staying in one place for too long is dangerous. The geography itself shifts.
In the Signal Tower, things don’t shift, and there are no twisted adults ready to jump out at him. The only other soul here is the Thin Man, who is busy in the kitchen. The first time Mono saw him cooking, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the first time he saw an adult doing something normal. It was also the first time he discovered what an oven did. He must be using it now, because he smells cooked food.
Daily meals and snacks are available to him, on demand. The Thin Man occasionally joins him at the table to make sure he doesn’t choke or make himself sick from eating too fast. Mono can scarcely help himself in that regard. He has spent much of his short life scrounging for scraps. He feels like he has to make up for all the meals he missed.
To Mono’s delight, the oven is on. The Thin Man is standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. His jacket is draped over the back of a chair, and his sleeves are rolled to the elbows. Mono didn’t make a sound when he entered, but the Thin Man looks over his shoulder nonetheless.
Mono pads over and looks through the oven’s glass door. Meat and veggies, spaced evenly on a sheet pan. It’s simple fare for the Thin Man, but to Mono, it looks like a feast. Where does this food come from? All the food in the Pale City seems rotten or stale. Here, everything is fresh and nourishing. Strength he didn’t know he had is coming back to him with each meal.
The Thin Man looks down when he feels something tugging on his pant leg. Mono cranes his neck back and says, “Hey, hi. I’m hungry.”
“It will be ready soon.” The Thin Man returns his attention to the simmering pot. When Mono doesn’t leave, he releases a staticky sigh and opens the cupboard. He hands the child a biscuit, and awkwardly pats him on the head. “Just one. You’ll spoil your appetite.”
Mono flashes the Thin Man one of his rare smiles, and sits at the table. If food is going to be ready soon, he wants to be there when it’s fresh out of the oven and off the stove. He devours the biscuit in two bites, and picks the crumbs off his fingers and coat. Thirsty. There’s a stool for him, so he can open the fridge without having to jump.
As he’s gulping down a glass of water, the Thin Man asks, “Would you set the table?”
One thing about this endlessly fascinating kitchen is that Mono doesn’t always have to eat off his lap or use his hands. There are colorful plates, glasses that look like crystals, and utensils that are sharp enough to cut even the toughest meat. Mono carries the plates to the table without accident, but when he strains to reach a glass in the wall cupboard, it slips from his fingers and crashes to the floor.
Mono, used to loud noises and broken things, cringes nonetheless. In the Pale City and beyond, this would’ve attracted the attention of lurking creatures. It says something that right now, he is not concerned about his safety. He gets off the counter and onto his stool, where he readies to jump down, but the Thin Man puts out a hand to stop him.
“Don’t. You’re not wearing shoes.” His swollen eyes turn to the scars on Mono’s feet. Mono follows his gaze. This is the first time in a while that he hasn’t had some sort of injury, or pain while walking. In this quiet, domestic environment, he has finally fully healed. And he had thought nothing of going and getting himself hurt again. That was simply his ‘normal’.
“Dust pan...” Mono says feebly, gesturing to the closet on the other side of the room. He wants to help, but the Thin Man shakes his head, and he has no choice but to sit and watch as the glass shards are swept up. It all feels so trivial, when there are bigger things to worry about (where is Six, for instance?).
Speaking of Six, what she would think of all this is a rhetorical question. Mono can imagine her sneering at his new lifestyle. How dare he fraternize with the enemy? Yet she was the one who dropped him…
Mono can’t make heads or tails of it, and the longer he ruminates, the more anxious he gets. The oven timer going off interrupts his thoughts, reminding him that it’s time to eat.
Later that day, Mono considers his wardrobe. There are plenty of clothes, and a generous collection of hats. However, there are no shoes, only socks. Mono understands this choice, as he can no longer go outside. The window in his room taunts him with all the places he can no longer go, places he’d need shoes for. This is something he has never considered before. Going barefoot means being quieter and attracting less attention.
Mono considers his hats. He once wore them to hide from the world, but now they’re just fun accessories. Their value hasn’t diminished because of this change. The more he thinks about it, the more confused he becomes. It’s easiest to focus on one thing at a time: he likes his hats, no matter the reason. He likes his clothes, which are clean and comfortable. He needs shoes, because he could step on something and get hurt.
Mono also needs to lie down, because he ate a lot at lunch and feels drowsy. No matter how many times he lies down in bed, he’s still amazed by how soft and cushy it is. Since his arrival, stuffed toys have mysteriously arrived to spend the night with him. He holds one to his chest. Rain beats steady against the window outside. If he could leave the Signal Tower, he’d go out and splash in the puddles. He wants to go outside.
The TV stutters to life. A package comes sailing through the screen, landing in the middle of the floor. Naturally, Mono’s interest is piqued. Given his last conversation with the Thin Man, he has an idea of what this present could be. He lunges at it, and nearly trips over his feet. His heart pounds as he peels back the paper and sees a cardboard box. Inside is a pair of oxfords, not that he’d know what to call them. They’re brand new, and even come with a new pair of socks.
T he shoes fit perfectly. Mono dances around the room with a whoop of delight. In these, he could run over a sea of glass and nails without so much as a scratch. He could jump to the other side of the world. In fact, the TV is still on right now. He takes a running leap…and slams face-first into the screen. The static is gone, the screen black, even when he pushes at it with all his might.
Just as he gives up, the sound of static fills the room once more. There’s a large hand print against the glass, enough to cover almost the entire screen. Mono instinctively puts his palm to it. So the Thin Man was watching. Mono will have to give up for now, but he’s not discouraged. In fact, he’ll have to thank him. This, above all else, has helped revitalize his spirit.