An Announcement chapter2

Story about Jack's pilgrim

White wasn't there in the lavatory. The lavatory had four rooms, and three of them were being used. I hesitated to knock on the doors guessing what would they occupying rooms think seeing one man, who knocked on the door, wouldn't come in. I decided to wait in front of the door nearest the exit. Was I maybe, no, definitely suspicious. The most suspicious in this world ever. While I awaited, a man asked what I was doing. I cheerfully replied to him that I was waiting for my son, and he nodded. No matter how hard I try to pretend I'm a good man, it tends to be somewhat different what I aim at. At that very moment, two doors opened. Who were in there were men, both fat and bald. Again I fell into an awkward situation. Why they had to go out from simultaneously? I thought they were brother or lover in their previous life. As is often case with me, I have always been awkward. White has been so, too. The last door still closed silently. I hoped White to be in there, otherwise I wouldn't excuse him over my situation. Excusing, which is, no, has always been my priority. I have always been trying to pretend I was right since my childhood.

I was born in a small port town. I was the only son my parents had. They seemed to be so glad to have me. At least, when I was a child. They never had any children except for me. I didn't have any idea why they hadn't had another child but that was that. How could I guess? I grew up without any troubles, without any fears. I think they loved me as much as they could. All the more, it was natural for them to except me to be something excellent. They believed I'd succeed in something special. I tried to make everything right only to fail to do so. Whenever I felt frustration, I regarded myself as a blockhead. I couldn't make friends. I wasn't encouraged. I wasn't praised. Yes, I wasn't praised. I couldn't reciprocate what my parent hoped. That was engraved in me deeply, so deeply. Like a shell in a seabed. The shell keep on sleeping. Sometimes it is opened and is sort of bubbling. The last door opened. As silent as it had been closed. The scenery is like a shell I imagined in a way. That silence embody disappointment similar to bubbles. A boy came out, but he wasn't White. I walked out from there hurriedly, feeling conspicuous gazing at me. White wasn't in there. I couldn't even find my son. I didn't mean anything. I couldn't find friends in my life. I wasn't praised. It was as always as this. And that is how I missed my son, White.