DICE

[3] b

Gala chooses to ignore her, grabbing the apron he had taken off before delivering that cursed order. He goes back to cleaning his area, now filled with dirty dishes.

Today he's starving, while at the same time, people at Mr. Kim's restaurant waste food at their leisure. Some barely touch their food, some refuse to eat their toast. Gala, feeling the pain in his stomach, quickly grabs the toast and half a portion of the grilled chicken from the stack of dirty plates. He eats it hastily.

Then... Gala chokes violently.

"Are you out of your mind, Gala?!"

Hanry, hearing Gala's disturbing choking sound, quickly turns towards him. He holds a leftover piece of chicken, unsure whether Gala had bitten into it or if it's about to be thrown away. He thumps on Gala's chest firmly. Hastily, Hanry grabs some water for Gala, offering it with a puzzled furrow in his brow.

"What are you doing, you silly kid?"

Gala, seeing the glass of water, immediately gulps it down, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure.

"Nothing," he mutters softly.

"You think I'm blind, huh?"

Gala glances briefly. The grilled chicken, once his attempt at easing his hunger, no longer matters; what's essential is that he's strong enough to handle the workload today.

"Your meal is in the drawer. Eat quickly and finish your work." Hanry keeps a watchful eye on Gala, who's still eyeing the chicken on the dirty plate with interest. Regardless of what it might have picked up during lunch, the place was hectic due to the crowded customers.

"Quick, Gala!"

The young man blinks slowly. He quickly discards the piece of chicken and washes his hands. "Thanks, Hanry," he says genuinely.

Gala gazes at his faithful bike with a grim look. The damage is pretty severe. He still recalls the incident that happened so quickly earlier. And Luke. Right. The guy he should call a coworker turns out to be his enemy. Gala doesn't match up to Luke, yet why does Luke have it out for him?

He really wants to ask or maybe even land a punch on Luke's face with his clenched fist. But he always thinks, thinks, and thinks. Shouldn't he just step up? So he won't be labeled weak or a coward?

That's how it should be, right?

But Mr. Kim's round face appears in his mind's eye. If he dares to confront Luke after being judged earlier, he's sure Mr. Kim won't show any more kindness by housing and employing him.

Right.

That thought plays like a broken tape echoing in his mind. The intention to confront a certain Luke Dimitri remains unfulfilled. He chooses to head home, slowly pushing his bike while pondering where he could get it fixed since the damage seems pretty bad.

Without the bike, he'd be late. After working at the restaurant, Gala still has to work elsewhere as a cleaner. His job isn't far from things that smell like dirt and dampness.

His old, taped-up phone rings loudly, startling a stray dog near a large trash bin. Gala chooses a shortcut to get to Lot 1 faster. It's not a restaurant but a house where the owner refuses to handle dirty dishes and clean up trash.

So Gala does it. He's fortunate enough to earn extra money there, although he almost feels nauseous with the pile of dirty dishes since morning. It's okay.

Milly Flat's name pops up on the screen, signaling who's calling him tonight. "Good evening," Gala tries to be very polite.

"No need to chat, Gala. When will you pay the remaining rent? You've got money now, right? I heard your friend, Marta, got paid."

Gala's eyes slightly close. If only he had the money, at least he wouldn't go hungry, and he'd have some bread and milk hanging on his bike, almost reaching their expiry date, but at least his breakfast tomorrow would be secure.

When he gets home, Mr. Kim isn't around. Gala is usually the last to return home, needing to finish other tasks and lock up the store. Mr. Kim lives above his restaurant. Daniel mentioned, "Mr. Kim delivered the food you spilled earlier."

Gala wanted to correct the accusation, but what for? He let’s Daniel say it, even though his coworker's gaze isn't like the others. It's mundane. As if what Gala did was a normal thing.

But if he'd worked as usual earlier without the mishap of spilled food, he'd have asked for his meager pay. Silencing Mrs. Milly's fiery lips. Then he'd use the rest to buy food stock, albeit not much.

"Yeah, Ma'am. Maybe tomorrow?"

“You think my flats free? What other reasons do you have, huh? Pay tonight or get out! I'd rather rent it out to a beggar who actually has money than have you here, Gala!” The phone was slammed shut, but it only made Gala angrier. He gripped the phone tight. He wanted to throw it, stomp on it, anything to make the frustration go away. But... he still had enough sense.

There was an empty drink can in front of him that became his outlet. He repeatedly kicked, stomped, and threw it wherever he liked. He picked it up again and repeated the action multiple times. Just like the trash bag lying in the corner. He kicked it numerous times, looking like a madman.

He also screamed at the top of his lungs, releasing the madness that was suffocating him.

"Help."

Gala straightened up. His activity halted. He sharpened his ears because the voice sounded weak and very soft.

"Help me."

"Who are you?" Gala's voice echoed in the hallway.

"Help."

Gala glanced at his bike, lying helpless not far away from him. He didn't think his bike could speak, that'd be ridiculous. No, he didn't think like that. But he had to get away because it seemed impossible for a woman's voice to be in this hallway.

Frightening.

"Here. Sir... please."

But Gala was curious too. As the words became clearer, an orange glow filled the dark, stuffy hallway. It was so bright that Gala shielded his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Here, Sir."