Dao rushed to his room, quickly changed clothes, and looked in the mirror. He looked like a parrot after a fight, but there was no time to put himself in order or make himself presentable. He tossed everything he needed into a sports bag, ran a comb through his hair once without styling it, and left the room. It would take about fifteen minutes by taxi to get from their campus to the necessary bus stop, then a few more hours on an old, rickety bus. Dao ducked slightly as he exited the room. He was quite tall for a Thai, but even he didn't need to bend down in the doorways. He blamed the today's unpleasant encounter. The stranger, whose name he had forgotten until Kasem reminded him — had stuck in his head.

“Alright, fuck him, next time, I’ll hit without any talks,” Dao was talking to himself as he walked out of the dormitory. He had booked a taxi in advance, so the motorbike was already waiting for him downstairs, and he still had the precious minutes.

Dao rode the motorbike, texting and trying to find information about Niran in chat groups, where people were discussing a new skirmish in the cafeteria. Unfortunately, all they knew was his name, what he was wearing, and how quickly Dao had slammed his forehead into his jaw. No LINE, no Instagram, no TikTok, no other social media. He seemed to be five or seven years older than the other students. Dao would have given him around twenty-five or twenty-seven. He himself was eighteen. In any case, there was no way to find any information on Niran. He even tried to use photo search engines, but with no results. Quitting it, so he wouldn't accidentally fall off the bike, he frowned. He only hoped that the jerk hadn’t enrolled in their faculty and that they wouldn’t have to see each other every day. Meanwhile, he arrived at the stop ten minutes before the bus was due to leave, immediately spotting it in the parking lot. Such a museum exhibit was impossible to forget or overlook.

“Thanks”.

He got off the bike and ran towards the bus. As usual, there were three people sitting inside. Despite the slums where Dao’s home was located, it was densely populated as if no one ever moved away. He was one of the few young people who ride back and forth there, only for his grandmother and to help the locals. He did it so often that he had even managed to claim his seat near the window in the seventh row on the left. There was a window, the seat didn’t squeak, and he could stretch his legs a little further.

“Bamboo stick,” came to Dao's mind as well as a crooked smile.

“I’m not that skinny to be called a bamboo stick,” he glanced at his perfectly shaped legs, like a model's in loose pants, and rolled his eyes. Good thing that upstart couldn't see his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I need to add another gym visit and start eating normally.”

During his ride home, Dao managed to clear his mind of annoying idiots in vintage shirts and enjoy the view he had already studied inside and out. Tall skyscrapers and enormous condos priced at five hundred bucks gave way to smaller houses until they changed into a small field, a forest, and after a couple of hours, it was replaced with dense slums. This Bangkok was more familiar to Dao. There, he knew how to behave, how problems were resolved, and what language to use. He had to uproot those village customs from himself and learn to communicate without fists and sharp words. But in that case, like with Niran he was simply overwhelmed by a shroud of anger. And now he was a local star. Dao exhaled and tilted his face towards the warm wind that gave a bit of freshness. The journey was almost over. From the bus stop to home, he would have to walk in the dark, but that didn’t bother him at all.

He got off the bus, watching it disappear into the night. He was the last passenger. Even though it was night on the wide street leading to his home, life buzzed like ocean foam in a storm. There were small eateries and mobile cafes here and there. Dao marveled once again at how many people lived in his area. Not a single free seat; men and women chatted loudly, laughed, and ate their noodles for a couple of baht. Dao smiled softly, feeling the pleasant warmth in his chest. He glanced around to ensure no one would bump into him and began to cross the road.

“Oh, Nong Dao is back!” someone shouted after him.

“Haven’t seen you around for a week, Dao! I’ll come to your place tomorrow!” a man shouted from somewhere to the side.

“Of course, of course, come to us! I came to visit my grandma for the weekend. Just not before ten o'clock! I want to get enough sleep!” he called back with a smile, hoping that the street sounds wouldn’t drown out his voice.

However, the longer he walked away from the main street, the less fun and light there was. Everyone was having fun on a Friday night after another lower working-class's tough week of. A couple of streetlights were flickering, dogs were barking somewhere, rats were scurrying around—everything was as usual. Not a single person. Dao’s home was a small, narrow construction in a merged chain of buildings. Everything was just like everyone else’s. The green door in front brought back a wave of tiredness. He hadn’t been there for just a couple of weeks, and he missed it terribly. His little room and old bed were all he had dreamed of. Dao wouldn’t consider himself a fan of big cities, but the profession he had chosen left him with no other option. Plus, he didn’t want to disappoint his grandmother, who hoped her grandson wouldn’t get stuck in the local slums.

“Grandma, I’m home!” shouted all around Dao, loudly slamming the door. “Where are you?”

“Dao!”

A woman of no more than sixty years of age, short and black-haired, came out to greet her grandson. Grandma Ri had put on a little weight over the past couple of years, which pleased Dao. He remembered how thin she had looked during his childhood. He himself had probably struggled to gain weight since those days. Hunger and the lack of stable work could not help but affect them. Grandma Ri sold sweets, but today, due to her grandson's return, she decided to skip her shift. Dao felt genuinely ashamed that his grandmother continued to work. He promised himself to start earning on his own as soon as possible and help her instead. It was a pity that a couple of unpleasant circumstances couldn’t be erased from their lives.

“Dao, dear, hurry up and take a shower. It’s so hot today, and it was the long way,” she urged him toward the shower, but he wrapped her in a hug. “Come on, we still have time to chat. Run to the shower while I set the food on the table.  I cooked for you everything,” she said with a smile, looking at her grandson. “You’ll tell me how you’ve been these past two weeks.”

“Alright, alright,” Dao tossed his bag onto the couch and dashed to the shower.

And just like that, the heavy day and the entire week were forgotten as soon as he returned home. He tilted his head under the cool stream of water, a happy smile played on his lips. A shower after such a day was a true salvation. He dried himself off, put on his home clothes—a pair of black shorts and a jersey —and turned on his heels. However, he nearly fell when Niran appeared in the mirror. Dao got so scared he dropped his toiletries. The jerk stood half-naked, covered in blood, with a silver crown on his head. The gaze of a killer. It was like he was about to step forward, leap out of the mirror, and rip Dao’s head off. Blood dripped from Niran’s lips, and his eyes glowed red. Dao rubbed his eyes and took a step closer. Everything disappeared. This strange hallucination appeared for a moment and then vanished.

“I’m losing my mind. I need to stop reading anatomy before going to bed; otherwise, by the end of the course, I'll be heading to a mental hospital,” he grabbed his head. “He really got into my head. I shoul give him a better nickname than ‘the jerk.’”

“Dao, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Grandma, I’m coming!” Dao took one last look in the mirror and scoffed. He stuck his tongue out at his reflection. “Screw you.”

When Dao got out  from the shower, he grinned widely. His grandma had made his favorite massaman curry, pad Thai, and sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves. There was also tea with milk and ice. Dao yawned loudly and walked to the table, giving his grandmother another hug along the way. He looked around hungrily, not knowing what to take first.

“How’s business at the market, Grandma?” he started a conversation, eager to eat and listen to local gossips.

“Business is going a bit better than average. It’s not quite the season, so desserts aren’t ordered as often. I've made good money though,” she smiled looking at her grandson. “All the time, people ask when you’re coming back. Tomorrow, I’m afraid you’ll have a lot of work to do. You won’t be able to rest.”

“I’m not so tired that I’ll suffer from an excess of work,” Dao lied and smiled. “At least we’ll make some money or get food. What difference does it make? At this rate, we won't have to worry about the amount of money we need until the end of the month. I also work on days when I don’t have many classes with Min at the café.”

“You have to study first, Dao. To become a good doctor, it takes time and dedication. Money is good, but you can’t earn it all,” his grandmother smiled softly, sliding a cup of tea toward him.

“I don't need all of them. A clear sum. Though not small,” he grimaced. “Everything’s fine. I’ve got a great GPA!”

“I see you even have time to fight in the meantime,” she nodded towards the Dao’s left arm. “Who did you get into a brawl with this time? You said Nong Kiet is calm.”

“Calm as a well-fed lion, but who knows what hunger will do with him…I have no idea” Dao looked at the small bruise on his shoulder that had come from Niran. “I don’t know. I must have bumped it somewhere while running here.”

“Somehow, I think you’re lying,” Grandma Ri squinted at him.

“No, really, it’s all true. I don’t even know where it came from. It’ll will fade.”

“It definitely will, Bamboo Stick,” Dao grimaced.