A rainy night. Wai Man was still waiting for calls.

 

He smoked by the window, watching the heavy rain outside. One cigarette after another, the rain kept pouring down. From his third-floor window, he spotted a homeless man at the nearby street corner, dragging tattered baggage and trying to shield his frail body under the building's eaves. The old man seemed to carry all his belongings—broken pockets, rags, dirty plastic bottles, and flattened cans... He wore layers of clothes that mixed winter and summer styles but had bare legs. Only a pair of worn slippers on his skinny feet.

 

Wai Man wished to swap roles with the old man, who should have entered the door and took his place by the window, watching the rain and smoking. He would become the old man, dragging burdens through the rain, sorrowfully soaking wet and weeping. Everyone else would gazed out their windows at him—each window would had focused on his sad, broken face... People would all mourn for him, except one person who turned away coldly. That was Ah Yue. A ruthless and heartless woman.

 

If he could, he wanted to pull out his heart and show it to Ah Yue—a bloody, still-beating heart connected with blood vessels inside him. Disemboweled and life hanging by a thread, he would crawl to Ah Yue. In front of her, who would be terrified and screaming, then he would beg her in a broken voice: "Please... Please... Give me some mercy..." Then his poor heart fell from his hand like fruit in autumn. He died.

 

Onlookers shook their heads in sorrow. Wai Man wished everyone would see that it was Ah Yue who killed him; she broke his heart. If possible, he'd pull out all his organs and toss them into a street trash can. The next day, when a cleaner found them, Hong Kong's newspapers would headline: "A complete human digestive system found in a street trash can."

 

Or perhaps an old homeless man would collect them and bring them to Ah Yue's place. The old man rang the bell then knocked on the door—this time Ah Yue opened it. "These are the entrails of a man who loved you deeply," he said as he handed her the bag. There were too many organs for two bare hands to hold; so the man used a plastic bag he had picked up from streets, and stuffed pieces of Wai Man inside, just like dead fish meat at a market—hope the man did not like fish!

 

Wai Man finished a pack of cigarettes, and the old man on the street corner had already left.

 

Ah Yue returned quietly on a sunny afternoon. Wai Man thought he would question her, feel angry, go mad, or even hate her as an enemy; instead, he felt happy—like a baby bird. Yet this little bird couldn't keep flying when nights came. In dark silence, Wai Man wondered why Ah Yue had abandoned him and why she was back.

 

He tried to find the truth through their daily life. First, he sneaked into her bag, looking for another man's belongings. Next, he checked her cell phone but he also realized how narrow-minded he was as being in this 21st century! So he pretended to look at his own phone while Ah Yue used hers; they leaned on the couch together as he angled his eyes toward her screen. However, it did not work—the text was too small and the angle was too awkward for him to see clearly. Thirdly, he occasionally hid along Ah Yue's route home; if she spotted him, he'd pretend to be waiting her for dinner together; if not, he'd silently watch her enter her home alone.

 

Moreover, he did not want to touch Ah Yue at all. The thought, that during her month away, she might have been with another man, made his spine chill—even it was just a possibility. It still made him lose all interest.

 

He always grimaced and wanted to say something.

 

He endured the torture, but Ah Yue couldn't. One day, she said, "If you have something to say, just say it."

 

"You really want me to say it? Do you really want me to speak it out?"

 

"Just say!"

 

Like a prisoner released from jail, he blurted out, "Why did you leave before? And... have you ever slept with another guy during that month?"

 

With no expression, Ah Yue stared at him for a few seconds. Then without any words, she began packing her things in this room.

 

"Wait! That's not what I meant!" Wai Man tried to stop her.

 

She picked up a hairbrush from the bed, body lotion from the bathroom, water lotion in front of the mirror, two sets of pajamas, and various odds and ends. The suitcase unzipped abruptly, and its lid fell to the floor.

 

"That's not what I meant! It was just a casual question!" Wai Man shouted in despair as he watched everything change all of a sudden.

 

Ah Yue packed up, zipped the suitcase, and jerked up the case rod. She finally bothered to speak. Her voice was cold like ice, "This is exactly what you mean... As for why I left before—you know that. The Janet in your office knows too. And yes, during that month, I've slept with every man around the world with the exception of you..."

 

Wai Man felt the ceiling was spinning.

 

Ah Yue felt that her words was not enough and threw one more, "I am such an idiot!" She grabbed her suitcase, which filled with emotion debris, and slammed the door. Once again, all Wai Man could see was her frustrated back as she walked away.

 

Ah Yue disappeared again.

 

At this raining night, Wai Man stood by the window, feeling he was the saddest guy in the world. He wished he could pack himself into a garbage bag and hide in a trash can. He longed to go somewhere it rained endlessly and soak himself until his body swelled like white dough. Alternatively, he imagined starving himself outside Ah Yue's house until he became nothing but a skeleton—just a few bone sticks put together. Hoping to become miserable to death, he would also beg Ah Yue and even kiss her feet. In that way, Ah Yue might believe his love.

 

However, He didn't go. Standing by the window, he just smoked one cigarette after another.

 

The rain kept falling that night.