Summer, age 9, Taiwan

Agggghhhhhh, Donnie hummed. The world around him appeared monotonous as the sun passed through the gently draped windows of the second floor. He was on vacation, and screaming into fans became an often revisited pastime.

"Can you please stop screaming into the fan?" his grandma begged angrily. She had had enough of his tomfoolery for the day, and it was only morning. "You're going to get sick."

He couldn't see how. He could hear the sound of her rubber sandals clashing against the tile floor as she walked into the kitchen to make some oatmeal.

"Here. How about you eat some breakfast?" She removed a half-empty gallon of soymilk from the fridge before setting it down on their glass-topped dining table. "Cereal's on the shelf." She had made sure it was somewhere he could reach. Because of his indecisive nature, they had purchased everything from Rice Krispies to frosted flakes while at Costco, but it still wasn't enough. And as attractive as breakfast may have seemed, it would not sway him.

Agghhhhh, he continued. It was the closest he could ever come to sounding like a robot.

"Hey," Grandma nudged. "The milk's no longer going to be cold. Don't blame me if you don't like it lukewarm."

"Ugh. Fine." She filled his bowl halfway before refrigerating the soymilk back in the fridge so it wouldn't spoil. He stood up and faced the fan.

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The spinning of the fan slowly came to a halt as his voice lowered into nothingness.

"Grandmaaaaa!" he screamed. He attempted to turn the fan back on, only to be stopped. "But why!?"

"Enough is enough. Now hurry up and eat your breakfast."

"Fineee." He wasn't quite ready to accept defeat. Grandma watched as he walked over to the shelf to remove a box of frosted flakes. Untying the tightly wrapped rubber band, he grabbed handfuls of cereal from the bag as he made his way to the table to create a floating raft atop his bowl of soymilk. He looked up, only to freeze. "What. I'm eating," he emphasized. He still felt the weight of his grandma's stares.

"Alright. Eat up," she responded. She dug into her own steel bowl of oatmeal, which she topped with pork floss.

It wasn't long before breakfast was over, and he took his bowl to the sink.

"Here. Can you put mine in the sink as well?" Grandma asked.

"Alright," he said with a sigh. He walked back over to collect her bowl and spoon.

"Thanks."

"Mhm," he nodded. He made his way back into the kitchen as Grandma gazed at the ceiling in thought.

"I'm probably going to go to the market. You wanna come?"

"I think I'm good. Thanks," he replied. As enticing as Grandma wanted to make going to the market seem, he simply wasn't interested.

"You sure? Maybe there'sâ?""

"Yeah." He began to make his way up the stairs to the third floor with much assistance from the handlebar, as the distance between the stairs would be a little too wide for someone of his height.

"Alright," she responded, a tad upset. She had, to some degree, expected a companion. I guess I'll just take my mini shopping cart, she sighed. That'll do. His mom and uncle were probably sleeping upstairs, and Grandpa had probably gone on a hike.

"Well, have fun!" He was gone in an instant as he strode into the room he shared with his mom before jumping into bed. "Morning mom!" he hollered. He felt a shift in the surrounding temperature as the room blasted AC.

"Leave me alone," she said. "Can't you see that I'm sleeping?" She turned to face the wall, refusing to be disturbed.

"Well, alright," he pouted. "You're no fun." He parted the bed only to head into the bathroom.

With no one left on the second floor and a day ahead of her, Grandma got up and walked over to the elevator. The spiral, target-like pattern on the square elevator button lit flaming orange for a split second before quickly fading back to an unexciting opaque white.
She stepped in. Fourth floor. The excitement of owning an elevator had worn off.

She entered her large and luxurious room before laying her choice of clothes from her closet onto her bed, selecting a sky-blue housecoat with an array of pink flowers. This will do, she thought. She headed into the bathroom, across from her room, as she washed her face with handfuls of fresh, cold water before changing.

Putting on a pair of socks, she left her room and headed down to the first floor. Grabbing her wallet and a pair of keys, she headed out the door.