ventually, the same routine day in and day out, the same old shit, work, dinner, bed, it all began to drag me down. My life had become meaningless, I no longer had any extracurriculars, I no longer had anything to do other than mope about. Work, dinner, bed. The same routine, nothing more, nothing less. Everyday was spent like this. I'd get home at the same time every night, come home to Sawamoto making dinner, lay myself on the couch, wait, eat, sleep. We never spoke to one another, and we never did anything with one another. We merely lived in the same space. What point would either of us have with talking to one another?

Sawamoto would worry over this, he'd fret and worry and attempt to get me to speak to him, attempt to get me to go out, to leave our apartment. Why would I want to do that? There was nothing for me anymore, everything was far too expensive for me nowadays. I didn't want to deplete our funds just because I was feeling down. There was no logical point to that.

It wasn't until my boss, Smith Aileen, invited me to an event that she was hosting, until she told me it wasn't optional, that I even considered going out. I knew I couldn't lose my job, and I knew she would be upset if she didn't see me there. I brought Sawamoto with me, unable to go without someone I could hide behind. these were the people I worked with, including those that hated my presence. I couldn't go without a sheild.

Sawamoto would agree the moment I brought it up. However, he did have one issue.

"I may not have anything to wear though, I don't have any nice clothes."

To which I would tell him to wear something of mine. I didn't have an issue with it, and he did need something to wear, I could agree to that.

On him, my shirts were a bit small, too tight, he would live, it would be fine. It wasn't as though he couldn't breath, it was just a bit of stretched fabric. I made a note to attempt at gaining more muscle, I was too scrawny as is.

I would take up the bathroom to change, a small room with hardly any space to move around in, it was rather difficult, but I managed to get through it.

We'd head out, we had to take the bus seeing as neither of us had a car to drive, or a liscense. We needed to fix that immediately, but it wasn't as though we could take out a loan on this, we had no credit, no past, no anything.

We had to walk a great distance just to reach her home, it was in a rather beautiful part of town, a rather large home, which was to be expected of someone so high up on the working ladder. She had worked hard to get where she was, she might as well flaunt how much she was being paid for it. This house was what did that for her. It was Sawamoto that had rung the doorbell. It would be answered soon enough. No one was here yet. That much was clear. I couldn't see why, we were a bit late. Maybe I had been given the wrong time?

Yet the door would be answered immediately. Smith would stand there with curlers in her hair, a grin spread from ear to ear.

"Right on time, Himoto."

She'd open the door, gesture for us to enter her home.

"I see you've made use of your plus one."

Sawamoto would smile at this, nod. We must have looked an odd pair. Polar opposites.

"Sawamoto Masa."

He'd introduce himself, as was only polite. We were in her house, it was her right to know his name. It would have been exceedingly rude if he had just entered without giving his name.

"Aileen Smith."

She of course introduced herself as any American would, given name first, family name last. It was odd to hear, but this was her home and her country, we needed to respect their culture. Just as they needed to respect ours.

"Pleasure to meet you."

Sawamoto would be the first one to these formalities.

"Likewise."

She wouldn't extend her hand out for Sawamoto, which we both found to be rather confusing, but we wouldn't complain. It wasn't our place.

She'd direct us to the sitting room, a rather nice looking place, neatly decorated, a nice change of pace from our usual scenery. She would explain that a few people were running late with drinks and food goods, that the get together would start soon enough. That we were the first to show, that everyone else was on their way.

It wouldn't take long for people to start letting themselves in. A few minutes at most. By this time, our host was pieced together, usually straight hair now curled, makeup applied, wardrobe fixed, everything. She was as presentable as ever. As were we. However, others wouldn't be so nicely dressed. Most showed up in tourist shirts, shorts, mainly the older men, women would be wearing dresses, but nothing near as nice as what any of the three of us wore, more playful attire. Nothing serious. I felt out of place here. I obviously had not understood what this get together would mean. What attire would have been most appropriate. Sawamoto and I stuck out like a sore thumb, myself especially.

We would mostly keep to ourselves, not daring to touch the food offered to everyone, not daring to drink, that is, until Sawamoto was taken from me by some of my co-workers. They seemed to be rather interested in him. I would be left standing on my own with little to nothing to do, a perfect victim I'd suppose.

I was cornered within moments, by the less friendly people I had to deal with in the work environment. No one seemed to notice what was happening. There were three of them, all looked the same to me, taller than I was, white, old, they all seemed to have the same issue with me.

They would spew their insults, tell me there was no place for foreigners in the workplace of America. They'd go off on a tangent, bitching and whining over how it was people like me that ruined America, how I needed to go back to whichever country I had escaped from, that it was illegal to stow away on a trade ship to gain access to their coutnry. For all their idiocy there seemed to be no real salvation for them, no real redeeming quality. They hated me, and all for no reason. It was pathetic. I would sneer.

Despite my atrocious accent, I could talk circles around them. However, I did not want to seem to be the bad guy in this situation, so I wouldn't dish out any insults or threats, I would merely wait, wait to see if anyone would step in. I'd allow them to say what they wanted. It had no affect on me, they were the scum of the earth, the dirt on the bottom of my shoes. They were worthless to me. They were just pissed off that I got paid more than they did.

My waiting would not be in vain, not at all, it wasn't a long wait by the slightest.

Sawamoto was with Smith, they'd walk by, and as they did, Sawamoto would pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation going on between these three men and myself. He'd hand his drink off to Smith, he looked as though he'd attempt at hitting one of these men. He restrained. Instead he stepped betweent them and me. Served as a wall.

"Where do you assholes get off? He's done nothing to you."

It was at this point that they began to bash against us for completely false accusations of being "disgusting homos". I'd have to say that I'm not disgusting in the slightest. I'd have to say that they were the disgusting ones.

Sawamoto would threaten them in a rather crass manner, this would in turn enrage Smith, understandably so, such words should not have been said in such a nice home. She'd step in, but it was not Sawamoto that she would direct her rage toward, it was the three men, the ones who had started all of this. She'd kick them out, she was the one who held all of the power here. Then she would rather politely ask us to leave. I was rather upset with this, I had every right to be, but I would leave without argument. There was no point in staying where we weren't wanted.

We would be home within two hours. It had taken a while, just the wait for the bus. The moment we were home, I would lay myself down on the couch. As expected, it would moan under my weight. Sawamoto would leave me to change into his own clothing. When he came out, I would move to allow him space. We would spend the rest of the evening in eachothers company, silently allowing the events of that encounter to sink in.

People really hate us.

This wasn't something that I was used to, this wasn't something I could stand. I was usually so popular, I had never been hated for my race before. Was America not supposed to be some great country, free and kind. Were we not allowed to show pride in who we were in a country like this?

Suddenly, I found myself missing home with an even deeper passion than before.

I was certain that Sawamoto did as well.