Chapter 2

"Machika," Kiki whines. "Machika, Machika, when is Christmas coming?"

I look up dully from my chocolate, and almost open my mouth to speak. I stare at him for a minute, and then incline my head to the clock and calender, side by side on the wall. He'll figure it out. I hope.

Because I'm not speaking.

The clock ticks by slowly, and it's enough to drive me insane. I wish for something, anything, to break the silence...

I hear a crash. My head snaps up, my eyes soften in hope. Maybe it was Rain. Clumsy Rain...

But it's only Kiki, looking up at me sheepishly. A lone blue and yellow ornament lay on the floor.

I walk over and pick it up, turning it over and staring at it softly.

We are two of a kind. Alone, separated from the rest... Heck, we even have the same colors... Well, unless you count the dye.

A knock sounds at the door, startling me slightly. I look up, in a daze, and then hurry to answer it.

It is a hooded stranger.

"May I come in?" His voice is muffled.

He is shivering.

I look out past him; snow! How could I have missed snow? I am more out of it than I thought.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Thank you."

There a silence as I motion for himself to sit at the table and begin to make tea. The poor guy must be halfway frozen.

"Are you alone?"

I half-heartedly shrug and thrust a shoulder at my bedroom door, behind which is Kiki, asleep on my bed.

"A pet?"

I nod.

"Shouldn't you be with your friends? It's Christmas."

I shake my head.

"You can't speak?"

I shrug, and hand him his tea.

"Thank you."

I sit across from him, drinking my drink, him drinking his. I want to speak; to talk to this stranger. But I can't.

"Machika, Machika!" Kiki calls, padding into the living room. I turn a sharp look her way, but it's too late.

The stranger is staring from Kiki to myself.

"Machika? As in...?"

"Who are you?" Kiki growls, suddenly noticing the stranger. I have a blank face.

"What is your last name?" the stranger asks, ignoring Kiki.

"..."

"Please, tell me."

"..."

I am struggling now.

"What's your name?"

"Mach-" I croak, my voice hoarse from non-use. "-ika."

"Machika what?"

"Mach-ika... Bal-fal-tin."

There is silence. I close my eyes, preparing to be arrested, or attacked.

But when the assault comes, it is more gentle than I imagine. In fact, it's not an assault.

It's an embrace.