I left the shop and wandered aimlessly through the snack street, lost. Finally, I stood at the university gate for a long time before opening the diary again.
*"I've decided to start my own business. Relying on a meager salary, when will I ever be able to give Amy a good life?"*
*"Amy told me today she found a place with rent that's only $300 a month—cheap and decent."*
*"I went to see it. It's clearly in the tenements. The environment is terrible. How can Amy live in a dump like that? I'm trash. Why am I so useless?"*
A memory sparked. I hailed a taxi and directed the driver to the urban village in the west of the city.
When I arrived, I stood in a daze.
So many years had passed, yet this place hadn't been demolished. Still broken. Still shabby. The ground slick with sewage and refuse, a chaotic web of electrical wires choking the sky above the narrow alleys.
I stopped in front of a gray, dingy building. For a moment, my courage failed me.
The top floor. The sixth floor.
That was where Amy and I lived after graduation.
We called that place home for three full years.