This is a story about a chipmunk and a llama who want to be close. But their fate doesn't.
She still remembers that night.
She is a llama, something of a required taste, who always acts at a whim. Therefore, no one could really read her mind. If you say she is mild in disposition, while you mustn't have seen her frolicking with her friends on streets in buoyancy. You can say she is a person going character, yeah, exactly. Being a merry-go-lucky person is her motto, but she has already rehearsed her last words in sick bed several times in her mind secretly. If there's any one with alter egos. Miss llama must belong to that group, and an active one, which is for sure.
"Help me with a mascara, please." she nudged her friend one morning.
"My eyelashes are like flies' legs."
The full cosmetics kit has been laid in a line on the table like some sort of a parade saluting to beauty.
"You are so good at gross metaphor," said her friend "you're looking gorgeous, dear, except your blood-color lipstick."
"Oh, indeed, I thought so." muttered the little llama, forcing a kiss on her friend's cheek before wiping it lighter.
Now the two llamas both squeezed in front of the mirror with their heads huddled. One was checking the makeup, the other the lip print.
"Why applying makeup today all of a sudden?"
"hush, it's a secret."
He still remembers that night.
He's a chipmunk, so nimble with his short limbs. You may wonder if there are any chestnuts hoarded in his cheeks, and you will be bound to be awed that they don't fall out when he grins. Indeed, people are always awed by him because he laughs a lot. Funny, huh? He is a bundle of fun, no one could not be affected by his radiance, if the world is full of creatures like this little chipmunk, it would be super energy-efficient, because he himself serves as a solar panel.
His heart is full yet empty, it's so broad and inclusive that it could accommodate the whole world, yet it still has some part unfilled or shut closed with a note 'wet paint' hung on the door. It's a mix of his Achilles' heel, firm armor, mine field and treasure box.
"Bro, you want to join us in tonight's game against those guinea pigs? "
"Well, I'd love to, but I may have to take the rain check tonight."
"What? you got a date?"
"Well, pay heed to that redhead, he always cry foul when he loses a score."
On the balcony sit the little chipmunk. A gentle breeze blow, and took the last of albizia flowers off the branches, sending a pink shower to the earth. Little chipmunk shook his head softly, whisking off the petals. He stared at his reflection in the black screen of his mobile phone. What was he thinking? Nobody knows except for him, or maybe he himself didn't figure it out either.He could see his eyes in the screen. Like the black hole, drawing himself into an unknown and inexplicable realm, unable to pull himself out when suddenly a petal fell onto the screen, breaking the uncanny peace. He felt like awoken from a spell.He let out a relieved sigh, pulling himself slowly to his feet and vanished into the thick forest with the petal in his pocket.
"Why do you learn tigers' language?" This is the first question the chipmunk asked the llama.
"Well, because tigers are the king of the forest. They reign supreme, and what about you? "
They talked a lot, but the exact words seem to be falling into oblivion pretty soon.They remembered that night, but little could be recalled, only some petty and irrelevant details took roots in their heads. The sky was clear and the moon was like a bow. The crickets were singing as if there would be no tomorrow. The evening dew dampened his pants and her dress. The fragrance of Jasmine made the best perfume ever.
"I'll see you again."
"I'm looking forward."
He formed a habit, that is to wait by the window at 8 every day to see if the pigeon comes over to deliver letters. The pigeon has been sending letters to the little chipmunk's neighborhood for years and sometimes he would invite him over to have a cup of tea. But it was until recently that he realized how desperately he wanted to hear the post pigeon knocking his door.
But these days, the pigeons hadn't showed up for a whole month.
He still waited by the window at 8.
"Excuse me, sir, are you waiting for anyone?" one day the pigeon knocked at the door of the chipmunk's.
He was thrilled to answer the door while seeing the empty hands of the pigeon, his grinning face froze into an awkward wry smile.
"If you are waiting for Miss Lama... Well, she had moved with no note left, it was so abrupt that she didn't even cancel the delivery service and your letters for her were laying in her mailbox untouched. I could tell because I can feel there's no room for another letter in it.
"Do you have any idea where she had moved to?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid I could not offer any help, and by the way, I'm going to retire next week. This might be my last visit here, thanks for those years of trust. That llama, she used to be like you, waiting by the window every time I passed by her house, maybe she must have her reasons for moving.Sometimes you just couldn't defeat your destiny and you are not even left a chance to ask why or... even say good bye. Anyway, take care sir."
The door was closed, he turned on the TV, had a bowl of cereal, and went to bed early that night.
"Dad, come over and check it out, I've finished my assignment!"
The chipmunk dropped the newspaper and went to the twins' room.
"Awesome, kid. You've got to help your brother with his study." said the chipmunk.
Time has done nothing to his gem-like eyes, except for a few fine wrinkles around his sockets. He opened one of his son's books, one pink petal fell out. "My handmade bookmark daddy, isn't it beautiful?"
"Yeah, definitely" he felt something snapped in his heart.
"Dinner is ready~" a soft and loving voice flowed from the kitchen. The house was filled with the fragrance of carefully prepared dishes and the kids' unrestrained laughter.
He put the pedal back into the book, striding to his families. That fluctuation in his heart was nothing but a ripple on the surface of the deep, vast ocean. He knew there's no need to ask God to lead him to the paradise because he's already been in heaven now.
"Are you alright, comrade llama?" asked the pigeon worriedly.
"There is a traitor in our Party who had tipped off the enemies, I...I am afraid that I cannot hold up anymore..." Blood was pumping out of her chest, staining her fluff into scarlet redness.
The pigeon bit his lips, trying not to cry out. Beads of sweat fell off his forehead
"...I... I never regret committing my life in to this noble cause... I've prepared myself to this day... Here's the thing...only us two know... comrade pigeon, please, please tell him I'm sorry to leave without a note..." Convulsive pain made her face grimace.
"I will, I will " sweats and tears mixed together, streaming down his cheek.
"Tiger-ism must perish" Her eyes forever closed. Three days later, the pigeon was assassinated in a rally.