Chapter 1

                                    

                                          
"You plucked pretty flowers from the ground, 
where I was forced to grow in cracked concrete; 
the concrete stepped on, 
the people broke you."
-Dylan Alkhe
Chapter 1 | The Brash Beginning
A Past I Dont Fully Understand
	When my mother and I left Japan, I was almost four. The morning of, I couldn't sleep; I couldn't understand why my cousin and her parents had left. I was more restless than ever for the first time in a room alone. My mother tried quietly escaping our room and into the living room, but I was still awake. I could never sleep early, but even now, I still can't. My grandma also had her room back since my uncle had left. Probably after an hour, my mother woke me up just enough, so I'd change and put on socks and my weighty amber jacket. She walked me to the living room; I was fully awake now. I remember the two medium-sized luggage bags and two backpacks next to the front door.
	My mother had started a call; I think it was a taxi service because 13 minutes later, there was a car in our driveway. With the two luggage bags, my mother put on her shoes and backpack and then told me to grab the other backpack. I did just that. When we were both in the car, the driver who was a woman had started driving. After an hour of sleep, my mother woke me up, and we were in an airport. It was my first time; it was bright inside. Few people were working, and even fewer people inside the airport; it made sense the sun hadn't even risen yet.
	T-Then, I don't remember right now. I don't know how, but I forgot about something so important. It felt like going to America was all in three days; I think we started at the Tokyo International Airport, then Los Angeles International Airport, then Denver International Airport, then what I believe was a two-hour-and-a-half car ride from a man who I didn't know, he spoke only in English his words were hard to understand. I could make out bits of what he had said because my ex-aunt, mother, and cousin would try to teach me. My uncle found out one day, and my grandma told them to stop.
Six Years ago, 
May 6th, 
3:00 PM
The Man
	Joshua, the man he is to me; he is what I'd call the perfect man. "Joshua 'O' Stolkes," I just found out from an old YouTube account that his middle name started with 'O'. Joshua comes from the Hebrew name "Yehoshua," meaning "God is Salvation," salvation, meaning "preservation or deliverance from harm, ruin, or loss." The letter 'O' is the fifteenth letter in the alphabet, and the angel number 15 in love life can signify the potential for deep, meaningful relationships or even a twin flame connection. "Stolkes" could have been patronymic (Pa - truh - ni - muhk), like adding -es or -s to a surname. Maybe it happened a while ago, and that family name stuck. Stolk or Stolke could often refer to someone living near a wooded or marshy land. It could also describe someone living near a stalk or vegetation, like reeds or tall grasses, indicating a connection to a specific landscape.
	I was tight on money; I only had $800 this month from my old job that fired me after my last paycheck on the first of this month. $800 is $400 for two weeks, $800 is $200 for one week out of four, and $800 is $25.8 per day for May with two cents leftovers. Today was the 6th; I had $41.79 today including some of the overflow of cash I didn't spend those days prior. I finally parked in front of the café about an hour before Joshua would usually arrive. The café was mostly a family business, and a couple of their unrelated people worked there, too. It was in a plaza with two stories, and the café was on a second floor; underneath it was a burger place. 
	I exited my car and parked on the far left, not too close to the café. I was at the door now; the door had the café's name, "JuJu café," they had an old, mostly unused Facebook page with a link to their X (Twitter). I had seen a Q&A thread; that was where I found out the cafe's name was the first two letters of the two owners of the café, Julio and Jules. I opened the door, and a bell connected to the door had dinged. I walked up the stairs, which were steep but not too noticeable. The plaza looked like a refurbished motel with an interior of condominium houses, but used for businesses. It sounded like it would look horrible, but it looked like one of the only places where a friend group of five, even without every group member, would actually spend all afternoon having innocent fun.