Leon was back in his single-room apartment after an overnight shift, making himself an instant cup of noodles for breakfast. Just then, a notification popped up on his phone:
City Hospital: Mr. Leon, your test results are here. Please collect them from your mailbox.
He had been having problems breathing for 8 months. Sometimes, he would go into coughing fits lasting 15 to 20 minutes. Now that the results were out, Leon, breathing heavily, went down his apartment where mailboxes were arranged as per room numbers.
He got his results.
It was not one but a bunch. As he read through the reports, he stopped. Sweat trickled down his throat.
His hands shook as tears formed in his eyes. Right there in the stack was a biopsy report.
In an air-conditioned room, Leon felt the mild scent of medicine. He was lying on a bed as a thin tube was pushed down his throat. A nurse was by his side, monitoring the images of his internals as the tube made its way into him.
It took less than 15 minutes for the entire endoscopy procedure.
Leon, now sitting in a chair, waited as the doctor examined his report.
The old man in front of him gently put the report down as he adjusted his glasses.
"I am sorry to say this, Mr. Leon, but it's unsalvageable. It has already spread to the lymph nodes in the body. In simple words, it's already beyond third stage."
Leon's eyes watered as the words came out of his mouth. He felt slight pain in his throat every time he uttered a word.
"How... much... d-do I have, Doctor...?"
The old man in front of him avoided eye contact and said, his eyes glued to the report,
"If treated, you have at minimum a few months. If you're lucky, you will live a year or two."
After Leon left the hospital, he didn't even realize when he had reached his apartment. He collapsed on the bed.
Tears tracked down his eyes as he stared at the ceiling.
Regret settled in as a raw scream escaped his mouth.
"Huaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
If only I had not smoked... if only I had listened to William... if only...
As these thoughts passed through his mind, Leon fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, he woke with a violent coughing fit. Blood-mixed phlegm piled on the floor.
He reached toward his phone to call an ambulance. His hand stopped just over the cellphone.
The doctor's earlier words revolved in his mind.
What's the point anyway... even with all of my savings, I won't be able to afford even a week's stay at the hospital... maybe it's better this way...
His hand grabbed the phone anyway. Still, he struggled with all his might to get up. Dialing the emergency number, Leon lay in the middle of his mess.
I don't want to die. I want to survive. I want to be happy even for once. Why me ... just why...?
Leon remembered how he lost his mother in an earthquake when he was just a middle school student. He remembered how, although weak , his father had worked three shifts a day to earn his college fees. He remembered how his father died of overwork before he could see him succeed.
He remembered how, when his first salary came, he had drowned himself in liquor and cigarettes. He remembered how William had argued with him numerous times over his smoking and drinking habits.
He remembered the day William left the country to marry his longtime girlfriend. He realized how no one was here to console him. No one to cry at his deathbed. He had considered calling William, his only friend.
But what was the point? Would he even remember him after all this time?
Leon heard his door burst open. His mind, on the border of unconsciousness, saw medics rush in. Then he lost consciousness.
Leon woke to a loud noise. He rubbed his groggy eyes. A loud barking noise rang in his ears as he instinctively backed up. He saw a grey dog towering above him, growling at him, its saliva flying as it barked loudly.
Scared, Leon looked around only to see piles of trash, spoiled vegetables, and a disgusting smell around him. He was alone in the middle of this trash field. A tall stone wall was behind him. A few meters on his right, he saw a small opening into the wall as blackish water slowly flowed out of it.
In his fright, Leon clenched his fist. He felt something wet and soft crunch in his grip. When he looked down, it came as a shock.
His body had turned smaller—much smaller than it used to be. His hands were those of a child, no more than 5 or 6 years old.
He saw the object in his hand: a wet bread piece with black and white spots covering its surface.
His heart tightened as the grey dog slowly took a step forward. By instinct, Leon threw the bread in his hand toward the dog, hoping it would take it and leave him alone.
But to his dismay, the dog only smelled the bread for a second before its eyes were back on him again.
He tried slowly crawling back but felt the wall behind him. In panic, as the dog grew closer, he slowly crawled toward the small hole in the wall. At first, it seemed small, but after looking at his body, he knew he would fit right in.
He avoided exaggerated movements as he slowly crawled toward the hole. Just then, as if losing all its patience, the dog lunged at him.
Now just a few inches from the hole, Leon leapt in. His hands splashed into the pool of black water that had formed around the hole. His body drenched in the disgusting liquid—but he paid no mind.
As the dog inched closer, Leon finally reached into the hole, but at the last second, the dog bit into the sleeves of his excessively long pants.
In his struggle, he saw a stone just a few inches away from him inside the tunnel. He tried, but his small hands struggled to grip it. One of his nails got ripped off. He grabbed the big stone and slammed it onto the grey dog's eye.
On impact, the dog wailed as its grip loosened for a moment. In that moment, Leon broke free and crawled deep into the tunnel.
He could still hear loud barks of the dog as it loomed outside the small opening.
Leon crawled even deeper. He stopped only when he reached the boundary where the tunnel turned so dark that no light could reach there.
His heart beat loudly in his chest. It took him a few minutes to calm down.
Looking at his arms and body, Leon wondered if he had been dreaming all this time.
He clenched and unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. The disgusting smell of the gutter made his stomach churn.
It felt too real to be a dream. For a moment, he thought he had been experiencing what people call "life flashing before death"—but such incidents had never happened to him.
He didn't know what was happening or why—but he felt no pain while breathing. He tried to talk, opening his mouth:
"1... 2... Uh... what happened to my voice? It's so childish."
Leon was happy that his throat was fine. He felt no discomfort while breathing and had no problem talking—only that his voice felt very childlike. Paired with the size of his limbs and body, he was sure now—he was 5 to 6 years old.
Five to six years old... but who? boy or girl ?
Leon peeked into his oversized pants.
He was a 5 to 6-year-old boy !!
but it wasn't his body. Even as a child, he hadn't been this pale. Leon pulled a strand of his hair. Though it was covered in soot and dirt, it was unmistakably white
or at least that's what he saw in this dim light. But one thing was clear , it wasn't black like his used to be.