Moha in Paris

Somewhere deep within a respectable neighborhood in Paris, an alarm clock was shouting through the dawn.

Moha reminded himself that he was a responsible and respectable adult, then got up without snoozing the alarm once.

Upon getting out of bed, Moha did 10 push-ups and 10-sits ups, then took a freezing cold shower.

Moha then dried himself up, made himself some eggs with orange juice and took his plate to the balcony to stare at the sky while eating.

Moha reminded himself that the sunrise was indeed a very beautiful thing, even though all he could see were grey clouds.

Moha made his bed, washed his plate, and put on his very adult grey suit that he had ironed himself last night.

He put on his grown-up freshly polished shoes, armed himself with his briefcase, and stepped out into the dusk.

As one could expect from a reasonable adult who had his shit together, Moha was very punctual. He arrived at the bus station at the same time as his bus. He gave a nod towards the driver, put on his headphones, and stared at the window until he arrived at his metro station.

At the metro, Moha found a seat next to a passed-out drunk man. He stared at his polished shoes until he arrived at the station next to his office.

Moha was a very respectable engineer who had graduated from a very respectable engineering school, and therefore held a very respectable job.

Before stepping into the office, Moha liked to order a to-go coffee from a nearby shop which, despite being slightly on the expensive side, made their drinks with coffee beans provided to them by a unicorn. This fact was largely ignored by the Parisian population, including Moha, who just really liked their coffee.

As per his routine, Moha took his plastic cup of unicorn coffee to a nearby bench where he could drink it while staring at the trees.

Moha took a seat, lost his balance for a split second, panicked, and then proceeded to spill the entirety of his cup on the ground.

Moha looked at his empty cup, then looked at the puddle near his feet.

And then Moha started crying uncontrollably.

-----

« Shhh. It’s OK, poor baby, don’t cry.” A soft voice was purring while pulling him close into her chest. “Shhh. Everything is OK. Shhhh. KHADIJA, WILL YOU BRING THE OLIVE OIL OVER HERE, PLEASE? YOUR BROTHER IS CRYING. Shhhh. Mama is here. It’s all right.”

A door opened and a rather annoyed teenager stepped in with a huge bottle in her hands.

-        “Why is he crying again? He always cries for no reason.

-        That’s not true. Your brother is just very sensitive. He can see things that we don’t, and sometimes those things make him sad.” The soft voice responded while taking the gigantic bottle from the angry teenager’s hands. “Here baby, drink this. It’s good for you. It’s OK. Everything is OK. I’m here.”

 --------

Moha was still bawling his eyes out. His tears and his snot were mixing. He had no idea why he was crying.

- “Oh, you poor baby. It’s OK. Everything is OK.”, a soft voice purred.

Moha looked up, confused, with snot on his mouth.

- "Mom ?"

It was in fact, not his mother. A young woman in her twenties was sitting next to him, and she was gently massaging his shoulder. She was also wearing a very grown-up suit, had polished shoes, a briefcase, and a unicorn coffee.

She had kind eyes, and a face that looked vaguely like a goat. He had never seen her before

-"I am so sorry. This is so embarrassing. What the fuck? I’m so sorry, you don’t have to...” Moha kept repeating while sobbing. He had managed to drink a mixture of snot and tears while he was talking, which made him cry even harder.

The young woman looked at her watch, thought for a few seconds, then put down her briefcase on the ground and put her arms around Moha.

- “You’re having a burnout. It’s all right. I'm here with you. Everything is OK.”

And then, for a second, everything was.