Well quickly jumped out of his bed and ran towards his cabinet to pull out some clothes. He changed his pair of blue and white stripes of pajamas into a pink polo shirt and a plain, black jeans. He reached for a couple of accessories on his jewelry box which was located on the uppermost layer of the drawers beside his cabinet. He wore a Rolex silver watch, the one his Dad, Gerard Smith gave him as a present during his fifteenth birthday, and his silver anchor necklace which his best friend, JH bought for him from a dollar junkshop back when they were still studying together on Well’s former high school. These were the two jewelries he would only were during important and sentimental occassions. Such as this one. He and his new friend, Allen Mar was about to meet on the City Central Plaza to continue or to resume the friendship that Allen Mar had temporarily ended just simply because he got angry after Well frankly asked him questions that triggered his inner self to explode in massive

Binsent Anchorman sat down on one of the four monoblock chairs around the only table outside of the same store. Well sat right next to him. “That is a different kind of waiting, though,” the old bloke replied. “That waiting is one where everything that is about to happen next is unknown, and you are bound between ending it and running for your life, and continuing it for the sake of the accomplishment of the misson. That kind of waiting is deadly. While your kind of waiting is-- I don’t kno what to call it anymore.” “Sentimental,” Well answered. “My kind of waiting is sentimental. And all sentimental things are usually boring. That is in their nature. But not in my case. Sentimental things-- to me-- they are the most risk-worthy thing in the world. Like-- you know-- I would be willing to brave all the odds just to achieve that sentimental value. I don’t know. Maybe you do not understand what I mean. Even I, sometimes, don’t understand what I mean. Is that what, we people, really are?

Well locked eyes with Binsent Anchorman. His bare, brown face suddenly turned blueish white. His eyes grew wide. His eyebrows raised up above the sky. And with a mouth growing into a massiive capital O, a voice squeeked out of his vocal chord. “What the actual fuck?!” he shouted as he stepped back. “You are alive?!” he asked, his voice shuddering as if he spoke it while facing an electric fan. His gaze kept on sticking onto the view of Detective Deib Anchorman’s carbon copy. “How about you sit down so that we can begin to explain things and you can begin to comprehend and understand?” Well said as he cupped his face with his cold, trembling hands and controlled him down to take a seat. “I know things look a little messy, and I know for some reason that you are thinking it is in you that is wrong, but no. I was exactly like you at first but then I got some enlightenment after hearing the explanation and the reason behind.” “Enlightement about what exactly?” Allen Mar asked as he sat d

The three arrived at the Noodle Bar, the place which Allen Mar said served the most amazing and most tongue-satisfying ramen soup he had been craving for. It was not that far from the City Central Plaza where they were supposed to be meeting at. The place was heavily crowded, that wa for sure. However, there was still a vacant table that seemed to have been reserved only just for them.“Is this the place? The one you said that serves a good bowl of ramen?” Well asked to clarify.“Oh, yes, yes my dear. Just by simply looking at it, my mouth is already drooling and my tongue can already sense how it tastes like. It is just so good. And so cheap, by the way,” Allen Mar explained. His eyes were like to rhimestones glued in replaced to his eyeballs, and they shimmered every single time he would take a pause to blink for a moment. There was never a second that Well took away his glance from him. He was struck in awe. He found it adorable to see Allen Mar forgetting about everything for a sh

The three of them went straight to the only vacant table which was located near the exit door beside what looked like an old pendulum clock. The design of the shop was like a traditional Japanese house but equipped with modern home decorations. “This place is cozy. The interior and the exterior is giving me the same vibes of my Dad’s cafeteria by the dock,” Well shared as he recalled how his father’s coffee shop back to their little town, CoastVille, looked like. It looked exactly the same. With the exterior Japanese-inspired, and the tiny alluring details added in the interior of the shop-- overall, it looked like a mixture of modern and traditional designs. “I know! It is beautiful, don’t you think?” Allen Mar asked, although it was sort of a rhetorical question where in Well did not have to answer it to be valid. The three arrived at the table and that was when they decided who would come to the counter to have their orders and who will be left on the table to reserve the seats. Up