Echoes of Connection

As Xiao sat down to eat his dinner alone, the memories from earlier still occupied his mind. The small, dimly lit kitchen, with its peeling wallpaper and mismatched furniture, felt even lonelier tonight.

The flickering fluorescent light cast shadows on the walls, making the room seem even emptier. The clinking of his fork against the chipped plate was the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

He pushed the food around his plate, unable to muster much of an appetite. A meager meal of plain porridge was all he could manage tonight. The weight of his forgotten birthday still hung over him, making it hard to shake the melancholy that had settled in.

He glanced at the family photo on the wall—a happier time when his mother was still with them, her smile radiant and warm.

After a few bites, he gave up and covered the remaining food, placing it in the fridge for his father, who would likely eat it cold, if at all.

Clearing the table, Xiao's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He opened it to find Mrs. Liu, their elderly neighbor, standing there with a warm smile and a steaming bowl of dumplings in her hands.

"Happy birthday, Xiao," she said kindly. "I remembered it was today. These are for you."

Mrs. Liu had been a family friend for as long as Xiao could remember. After his mother passed away, she often stepped in to help, bringing meals and checking in on them.

Her own children were grown and lived far away, so she had a soft spot for Xiao, treating him like a surrogate grandson. Her dumplings, filled with savory pork and fragrant herbs, were a comforting reminder of better days.

"Thank you, Mrs. Liu," Xiao replied, touched by her thoughtfulness. "You didn't have to."

"Nonsense, dear. You shouldn't be alone on your birthday." She patted his shoulder gently before heading back to her apartment.

Returning to the kitchen, Xiao placed the dumplings on the table. The savory aroma filled the room, momentarily lifting his spirits.

He picked one up and took a bite, savoring the taste. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

As he chewed, his thoughts drifted back to his mother's cooking. He remembered how she used to make dumplings, the kitchen filled with the same rich aroma, her hands deftly folding the dough around the filling.

He could almost see her standing there, her apron dusted with flour, her smile warm and loving. The memory was bittersweet, a reminder of happier times now lost to the past.

After cleaning up, Xiao's thoughts returned to the watch box he had found. The watch was a relic of his childhood, a symbol of a time when his family felt whole. He returned to his room, noticing that the soft strains of his favorite classical music were still playing in the background.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he opened the small orange box and took out the watch. It was a simple design, but it still held a certain charm.

It was a special edition with cute little basketballs surrounding the dial, with a picture of Michael Jordan on the face.

He remembered how proud he had been to wear it, how it had been a symbol of his parents' love and their belief in him. He could almost hear his mother's voice, encouraging him to chase his dreams, to reach for the stars.

His eyes welled up with tears as he traced the watch's face with his finger. "Happy birthday to me," he whispered, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

Xiao decided to put the watch on, fastening it around his wrist. Although the battery had run low a long while ago and the watch had stopped working, it felt comforting like a small piece of his past was still with him.

He glanced at the time, noticing that it was almost 8 PM. His father wouldn't be home for a few more hours, at least.

He picked up his phone, staring at the contact list, his finger hovering over his father's number.

He thought about calling him, about telling him how much he missed him, how much he loved him. But the weight of his father's absence, the endless late nights at work, and the indifferent conversations held him back.

He remembered the last time they had talked about something other than chores or school—a distant memory filled with laughter and warmth. It was a summer day at the local park, his father pushing him on the swing, both of them laughing freely.

Xiao wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had grown between them, but he felt paralyzed by doubt and fear. What if his father was too busy to talk? What if he brushed him off, too consumed by his own grief and work to notice his son's loneliness?

With a heavy heart, Xiao put his phone down. The words he wanted to say remained unspoken, trapped in the silence of his room. He needed something to distract himself and pull him out of this vague sense of loss.

His gaze fell on his phone, the Discord app still open. The notification of a new message flickered like a beacon.