Chapter Text
Manhattan (pop. 1,694,251), New York City, New York, United States of America.
15,168 kilometers (9,425 miles) away from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
"Arjun's coming back soon."
The blond looked toward his friend as they both walked out the café, drink in hand. "Really?"
"Yeah. You sound disappointed," he jested, elbowing Sam's arm while laughing. "You're horrible!"
"Hey, watch it!" Sam scolded him, gesturing toward his cup of coffee. "It almost spilled!"
"With the winter we're having, that might be a good thing," his friend chuckled. "You know, feeling all warm."
Arjun was one of Sam's more closer friends. As one might have guessed from name, he was of Indian descent. Accordingly, he and his family visited India around twice a year. Once during the school year and once in summer break.
Lucky guy, Sam thought as he took a sip of his cinnamon latte, his usual order whenever the frigid Manhattan winter bared its icy fangs. His friend just got black coffee. Pretty boring, but Sam didn't say anything; his friend paid for him after all. Sam still had some semblance of manners and etiquette, even with his arrogance and pride.
It helped that his birthday was just the other day, January 6th, so he got a birthday deal on the café's rewards app.
The high today was supposed to 7 °C, at least according to his phone (or 41 °F, as he was used to, naturally as an American), but for some reason it felt even colder.
Allegedly the January record low in Manhattan was −2.3 °C (or 27 °F), but he couldn't believe it. This weather was already killing him, even with his boots with fur inside, his thickest beanie, and three coats (or four, or five... he couldn't really tell anymore—he just knew he was wearing a lot).
"He actually left India already," his friend informed him. "But they're having a layover in Malaysia. Apparently, there was some celebrity there while Arjun's family was having their vacation—darn good timing, right?"
'Malaysia'...?
He repeated the foreign-sounding word in his mind. Where could this be? Didn't sound too familiar—didn't sound like a place he'd ever go to. Sounded Middle Eastern, like close to Saudi Arabia or Qatar or Dubai or maybe even Afghanistan or something.
"Where's that?" Sam asked, still trying to think about where it could possibly be.
"Somewhere in Asia, I guess." His friend popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "That's what Arjun told me before he left New Delhi."
Sam sniffled. The cold was really getting to him. "The Middle East is in Asia, right?"
"Something like that," he said, "but I don't think that's where he was going. He said they spoke a bit of Chinese there, so I'm guessing he went more eastward. Actually, I'm pretty sure the singer they're going to see is Chinese too."
Oh... Sam racked his brain. So this 'Malaysia' is in China, he concluded. Makes sense. Arjun was into those weird types of anime.
He didn't dare clarify what "weird types of anime," even in his head.
Too traumatic.
"But last time I checked, Malaysia was in Southeast Asia, wasn't it?" the friend told him. "I might be thinking of a different thing, but I think Rachel and the others did some group project about it last year."
Southeast Asia, huh...? Sam thought as he stroked his chin, as if it would get him to think better.
Malaysia's probably in Singapore then.
Hmph... Well, I feel bad but... they deserved it.
Sam looked at the salad on the floor, the tomato soup on the walls, the pudding all over his friend's face.
...And a disappointed principal crossing her arms.
All the result of a particularly nasty food fight; he didn't even know how it started.
Either way, he didn't partake in it. Wasn't that just a thing they did on TV shows?
He'd never do such a thing.
The Statue of Liberty stood tall on her (aptly named) Liberty Island in New York Harbor, with unwavering courage and a sense of justice in her empty eyes.
Sam sat on a bench quite a distance away, chewing away at his cheeseburger under whatever stars he could see through the light pollution and the clouds, diet Coke on his side.
He had a sort of indifferent expression. Indifferent to life, indifferent to emotion, indifferent to logic, he wasn't sure.
While he'd never admit it, he was afraid of the dark. Despite this, the moonlight was somehow bright enough that he could see his food just fine, so he wasn't as afraid.
It certainly helped that the entire city was lit up one way or another regardless.
He wasn't necessarily even trying to have a look at the Statue of Liberty—he just wanted to get Burger King—but he was close enough that he could still see her.
He gazed at the torch in her right hand with its gold-colored fire, glimmering in the night from the city lights all around her.
She was the icon of freedom, the symbol of welcome, and the embodiment and personification of... well, liberty.
Sam learned (as did everyone in school in the state, if not the entire country) that the statue was a gift to the United States from the French, designed by the sculptor Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi more than a century ago.
The class also learned the colossal statue was brought all the way over from the Land of Liberté, Égalité, and Fraternité via warship.
He looked at the golden torch almost longingly.
He sighed.
I wonder if I'll ever be brought somewhere far away like that to fulfill my purpose.
He took another bite from his burger and chuckled.
How corny... That doesn't sound like me at all!
He picked up his drink and decided to start walking home before his delusions of grandeur got to him.
New York City may be the The City That Never Sleeps, but unfortunately, he needed to.