Dreams of Butterflies Dancing Chapter#3

Sato-san walked past the clipped hedge of tea and jasmine shrubs and headed to the market on the other side of the tracks where frogs and turtles squirmed in buckets and fish swam in tubs.

The yellow and polka-dotted butterflies ignored his passage.

It was not-so-nice to be ignored. He noticed everything, careful of the high curbs, the tuk-tuks that appeared out of nowhere, the mist that always dissipated along with the morning's ennui.

He decided that duck noodles would make a good lunch.

The market offered everything Chinese. He could read some of the signs, could speak some Hokkien, some Thai, some Lao, a smattering of this and that. He spoke Japanese and English with the ex-pats living in the condos.

Sato-san thought of his new neighbor Lim and wondered how he was coping. Eurasians with fair skin were a sought-after commodity. Pond was besotted with him.

He ate and continued his wanderings, then back to Mill Place to sit with tea, hoping for some company.

He dozed as the afternoon blazed and dreamt of butterflies dancing.

He woke to a dog barking. He was bored, so he got up to see why people were gathering by the tracks.

The sun was casting long shadows as a bang rang out.

There was blood, there was yelling, there was...

Sato-san turned back. There was no need to get closer. He picked up a six-pack of water and some Lays potato chips at 7-11, then headed home, noting the sparrows flitting through the jasmine as if nothing had transpired.

He made it as far as the gazebo where residents smoked before his legs gave out.

~275 words