Cast iron stove Burnt tofu roast One by one they’ll eat My burnt tofu roast

For now they all gather, Like seagulls that never scatter, Harping on about what and what No one knows better

But I hope the wine is fine, And the tofu although burnt, divine I hope they take the time To say that at least she tried

In English, We don’t end sentences in because Nor do we start with it either For there’s always a reason And no matter what They’ll always be a reason.

That’s why they always ask my reasons Why do you study mandarin? Why not French or your mother’s tongue? How do you know you like them? How do you know you’ll get there? Do you know how many you have failed? Why would you want a second degree? In linguistics of all things? What do you plan on doing with that? Why don’t you plan? Why do that?

Where do you keep your why? Six feet underground? Secrets hidden down, Where are your why’s? Where are your reasons? Why?

Because.  Just like the universe I do because.

Sometime in late February of the new decade is when it happened. Mom always drove me to school since we moved to Brampton, which I was grateful for. Felt like I was finally experiencing some stereotypical childhood core memories. She parked in front of the school and wished me goodbye. I think she was angry at me for something but I don’t remember nor do I care. She was always angry at me for the most anal of reasons anyways. I replied the same to her and left the car forgetting my wallet inside.

I turned back to get my wallet, but I think my mom hadn’t noticed me as she started driving the car and the back right tire accidentally ran over my right foot.

“OW!” I screamed, the car coming to a halt. She comes out of the car crying, and wailing asking if I’m okay. I look into her eyeballs, her eyes panicking in fear and I laugh. I just keep laughing and laughing even when she’s confused and asks me if something is wrong with me, I laugh. I laughed so hard that I started choking slightly. Other drivers, schoolmates and teachers watched as I went into a laughing mania. My mother was confused, and I could tell she was starting to get angry but I just kept laughing. There was nothing anyone could do that would make me not laugh right now.

I don’t think I ever laughed that hard in my life and when I was done, I said I was fine and went inside, stoic.

I ended up going to get an x-ray of it after school, it was fine but even now I still get sharp pains from time to time. I was (and still am) grateful that I was wearing my black bulky UGG winter boots. I remembered that my mom had gotten mad at me when I bought them back in 2018 stating that it was a ridiculous purchase with an expensive price. They were my first big purchase from my first paycheck, and they cost me three hundred something dollars. I had purchased them from Nordstrom at Yorkdale from a nice blonde lady, who probably was trying to upcharge me to get a commission but I don’t care. I felt the boots had lived up to the price and vindicated me in the end.

Whenever I tell this story people ask me what was funny about getting my feet run over. Everything, everything about it was funny.

Lisa was once again stuck but this time not of a mental block. Instead she had wondered far off into the nearby forest, with nothing on her but the clothes she had on. Her previously white sneakers were now altered by her steps through the mud. Scratched up by the sides and practically ruined.

She thought to herself, “never will I wear this again.”

How could she go home? She could go back the same way but she had already forgotten. Internally, she cursed her poor memory and wished she had read more to improve it.

For the next few minutes she wandered. Further and further into the forest, no idea if she was getting closer to civilization.

Her eyes were beginning to water, she tried to clear the tears away with her sleeve. Unfortunately, the dirt on her sleeve blinded her. She stumbled around, then tripped on a log and rolled down into a patch of leaves and sticks.

A groan escaped her mouth, one of nothing but pure agony. Her right leg was throbbing, blood was seeping out of it but worse of all she couldn’t move.

There she laid, in pain, with tears and silent. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, she knew what was happing. The minutes turned to hours, the hours turned days, the days turned to months. There Lisa was once again stuck but this time not of a mental block.