The bleak evening sun smiled boringly as if it didn’t care about its eventual demise in a few hours. Pale flowers were excreting their unbearable rotten smell; this summer was too hot, too stupid. And I agree – this gala was so boring. If father had not insisted on his way, I would have never attended this vain event, full of old people. Never. I swear!

The initiation of a hero is an excruciating event: First, people will wait for hours until everyone has arrived, then old geezers will deliver eulogies, ten at least, praising our well-working system and the host’s family. Next step: the coming-of-age ceremony. Blablabla. Finished! Hurray! No… Then the adults will dance until midnight. So very boring.

The dining hall was old-fashioned, decorated in a baroque style, swank, bleh. Shiny, glittering, golden statues, candlesticks, and whatnot. Darn, the Ferris were richer than us, but at least the buffet was passable. I really liked the salmon and the cookies.

“Steven. You should behave yourself,” my father reprimanded me, “How about meeting the Ferris’ only daughter?”

I honestly didn’t know what I did wrong this time. Ohoho, my father was making his stern grimace – and I did not care a single bit. A girl, he was crazy. No way. Why should I meet a girl?

“Look, I have home-schooled you all the time. This is your first gala and our family needs to defend its good reputation.”

“Father, you’re a hero. You’re stronger than 99% of all the people on earth.”

“Son, I told you. We’re guardians. We’re better and more important than the normal non-empowered people, but it is our duty, for the sake of humanity, to be a role model. How else could we claim to be the defender of justice?” My father was scratching his head, as if he was telling me, “Son, this is so obvious, just do as everyone tells you. Why can’t you?”

“Fine”, I answered, numb, uncaring.

My father patted me on the head. “You’ll do well tonight.” He pointed towards a silhouette behind a curtain. “Go.”

And so I went to meet the girl. She came out of her hiding spot when her brother, the star of this event, a brand-new superhero –hooray…– talked to her. She beamed like a kid who got candy. Meh, how could one be so happy while attending this gala? Her brother left and so did her smile.

Huh, now she looked lost in the mass of guests, small like a pebble on a mountain. I knew the very expression she had on her lips – one of outmost boredom. I could somehow relate to her; this evening was painful, indeed.

I slowly approached her and admired her whole presence, not only her figure – she looked jaw-dropping – but it was her very being, how she stood there, lost, that drew me in, sucked my soul out of my body, touched my very core.

Damn, all the maids in our house were ugly and old, but she … she was truly … beautiful. I smiled, I wanted to see her smile again, it was precious. Somehow, a warm feeling burst through my body, colouring all the grey in my heart, painting my surrounding from bleak-grey to golden.

At one point, I froze because I didn’t know how to proceed. How do you speak to a girl? Like boys do? I was no fool, no that’s not how, wait, no, but argh.

I turned into a pillar of salt when this lovely fairy stood up and deigned to answer me, “Did your father send you?” She looked annoyed, though.

“I…yes.”

“The gala is boring.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, so loudly that onlookers turned to us and my father even chuckled. How rare.

She smiled. She touched my heart. She was…

“Thank you for your time,” I said and started sprinting away, leaving the hall and entering the garden.

I had done it. I jumped, I jumped. Ah, you, evening sun. You’re so beautiful, vivid, living. Yes, you do not fear your death, you embrace it.* I threw my arms into the air, exulting, and exclaimed, “Yes. I did it, I spoke to her!”