15 March 2023.

Things could have been so different.

The suit hugged him warmly, vigorously; like a long-lost relative. He had no idea how well the outfit would suit him. Neither did the well-heeled crowd, which tossed him intrigued glances.

The young man had managed to best them. He consciously let his hair grow out. His bow tie bore a good pattern. He chose a jacket from a tailor no one could ever object to. He carried himself confidently, as though he felt ready to interrogate the others.

His name was plausible, his face was plausible, his voice was plausible. The more he spoke to the legion, the less they felt it necessary to test him. The young man danced, traded frivolities with the crowd, and posed for pictures. He noticed the crowd relax around him; say what they couldn’t say around regular folk, and he realised they deemed him irregular enough for good company.

But all the while, he kept thinking of a regular place. He caught himself in the ballroom mirror and saw a curious child wrapped in fleeces, walking towards a drab shopping mall under the wide, never-ending sky. As he danced on the polished wooden floorboards, he heard the crunch of snow under his boots and remembered the trembles of cold in his legs.

The mall was too clean to be run-down; too busy to be abandoned. It was regular – simply unremarkable. People were clinical with their steps. They didn’t take time to browse because they already knew what each store had. The boy trudged on plastic tiles stained grey by foot traffic. He smelled acrid nail polish from the salon, sickly-sweet candies from the pick n mix, and scalding coffee fumes from the food court.

It was a faraway place even when he lived there. It sat on the edge of the world, amongst the vast plains. Everything was wide open. The cold sharpened everyone’s vision. There was no time for frivolity. People lived as families and individuals, but never in crowds. There was nothing to scrutinise or scorn others for. No one ever needed to put on airs. The boy wrapped in fleeces saw them meander through the mall, following their routines as though no one was watching.

But the boy watched, and he saw the expressions on their face. He watched everything. He saw total obliviousness; no regard to what could be happening elsewhere. It scared him. He knew there was — there must be — a world beyond the grey malls and identical houses and empty flatlands. But everyone in that mall pretended it didn’t exist anymore. It was more practical that way. The boy wanted to know what was out there.

Now the young man danced with pretty gossips in pastel-coloured dresses. They told him how great he looked. They told him lies about the other guests, and he exchanged his own. The crowd let him in because they knew he was irregular. Lying was the price of admission. The young man liked everything and everyone on display. He met people who were conscious they were being watched. They presented themselves accordingly.

He didn’t want to forget the boy. The boy’s fear reminded him why he was in the ballroom: why he had to lie; why he had to peacock. He had escaped from the empty, practical plains. He fashioned a life that millions dreamed of having. Things could have been so different.