Is running out of feelings possible? Because we run out of words and ideas sometimes. It gets hard to express whatever's going on within our heads. So we shrug and zone out. Or we just go with the flow and pretend that we're having fun blending in. But when it comes to feelings, is it possible? To feel nothing. Void. Maybe on purpose. Because you decided it hurts to feel. To think. What have feelings ever brought you other than fear and heartbreak?

You know you failed when you've been scrutinizing your target for almost an hour and yet failing to take a move. You know you're a wimp. You saw these two cops get out of the car and into the bar. It was hard to predict how long it will take them to come back outside. So you waited. And after every five minutes you promised yourself that you will do it after another five minutes. Because you don't know if they will jump right out once you approach the car, right? It's definitely not because you're scared. Definitely. But then you're running out of five minutes.

I opened my car's door and stepped out. Before approaching their vehicle, I stole a look at the cops seated by the bar. The empty shots in front of them said they were having a blast. And the way they chuckled at something, maybe even quite stupid, that one of them said made it clear they've got no intentions of leaving sometime soon. So I sneaked back towards their car, after sighing in relief.

Stealing cars was something I picked at the streets. I ran away from home when I was fourteen. It was at the beginning of summer vacation, when my parents gathered with me and my sister and broke out their divorce intention. I felt like I've been betrayed. It's not that I wanted my parents to love each other forever or something, I just hated change. And, specially, rapid change. Rebellion drove me out that night. I was angry and scared. I didn't want to experience something new. And not just new but unsettling and traumatizing for most of the kids who've been through it. So I decided to take a tour through this summer vacation. I travelled around, learned new things, and made lots of friends. Friends who taught me a lot, like stealing cars. After spending two months in the streets, I decided to go back home. Not just because I missed my family. It's also because the street life wasn't mine. I wasn't made for it. I am someone with so much potential inside my head. My grades were untouchable and my future is to be envied. I knew that and, as I said, I hated change. When I came back, I was more than welcomed. My parents were too nice to me that I felt uncomfortable. And they said that, as they were immersed together in searching for me, they found love and familiarity in each other. And it woke them up. They promised that they will live and die together, and, to my and my sister's surprise, they did as promised.

I found myself a bobby pin earlier and I started picking the car's door lock. It has been more than a decade since I did such a thing. My hands were too stiff already. I must've lost my malleability. Age isn't just a number, after all. It took me sometime to figure this out and I was losing both my patience and calm. It was chilly yet I sweated. And the pin was getting slippery. Then I thought of her. And how she must feel at the moment. And what could happen to her if I don't get this job done in time. These thoughts usually get on your nerves and mess with your performance. But for me, it was like magic. It worked inexplicably. The door was unlocked.

I took a deep breath and scanned the area for witnesses then hopped in. I worked my way through the wires and woke the engine up. A victory smile spread my lips apart but that didn't last long. As I raised my head up, the two cops came into view. They seemed to be chilled but not drunk. I almost choked on my saliva when our eyes met. My hands rushed to the wheel as I sped away with the car. I could see the cops running after me and reaching for their guns in the rear-view mirror. I nudged the gas pedal even harder. I spotted a gun on the passenger's seat next to me. One of the cops must've dropped it or forgot about it. Nice. I know some brains that need to be blown away with it.

I was running out of time. I needed to be there in less than an hour. So although I might be making a setup for the kidnappers since there's a huge possibility I am followed by the authorities, I didn't hesitate to head straight to my destination.

********************​

I arrived just thirty seconds before nine. I almost flied over cars to make it in time. And if even I wasn't tailed by cops, I must've summoned some attention with the speed I dashed by. I don't care, however.

I park the car in front of the bookstore and got off. What was I waiting for? Another message, right? Will there be? Because if he's as mighty as he has been implying then he must've known that the whole of NY is after me and that I am probably followed. So it's not smart to show up or even contact me. Because after all he doesn't want to prove me sane in any possible way. So is he really going to bail on me tonight, I wonder.

A little boy, maybe five or six years old, came around with a basketball. He kept bouncing the ball repeatedly, and, I have to admit, I got really distracted with his skills. I know a talent when I see one, and I am telling you he's the new LeBron James. As I watched him ace the game, I started wondering if it's normal for a kid that young to wander alone in the streets at this hour. I decided to mind my own business. I mean, why would a criminal like me, who's accused of more than three crimes already, be concerned about someone else's kid?

The boy noticed I was watching him and smiled at me. He then approached me slowly and extended his arms to me, holding out the ball.

"Do you want to try, mister?"

I smiled and took the ball from him. And before I even opened my mouth to make a single word, he ran like a wild animal. If I didn't know better, I would've thought he was running for his life. I froze. What just happened? I looked down at the ball I just received and that's when I saw it. A small folded paper, stuck to the ball by a piece of used bubblegum. I took it out and unfolded it.

Dear Richard,

If you're reading this then you must've made it, champ! Congratulations, man! I'm thrilled for you really. And thanks for the gift. I am thoroughly touched, mate.

I will make myself brief this time because you must hate it when I babble. You've got a single more mission to go and you win the girl, Richard. Be flattered! This time I will not ask you for favors. Not for me nor for her. I will just ask for a fair trade. A life for a life. A girl for a girl.

Remember that Helen? The one you almost killed her husband. Well I want her. I think you were destined to be our cupid. To assemble two star-crossed lovers together. So go after it. Bring me my woman and come get yours.

But this time we'll not go with that boring routine anymore. I give you a day and you spend hours planning and all that nonsense. Where's the fun in this, huh? The spontaneity? So no. You still have about three hours till midnight. Go grab some dinner and then go get me the girl and meet me in your building's parking lot. I'll be meeting you there this time. Me and my girl. I know you're too excited to finally meet me but don't let the thrill take over your sense of responsibility. Because if you show up a minute late, you will only find her corpse waiting for you. And you will blame yourself forever for wasting your only chance to meet someone like me! And please don't forget to leave the paper where you find it. Just place the ball by the mailbox. It's my nephew's.

P.S. Better brush your teeth before showing up. I don't want you to repulse your girl, okay? Don't be late. I miss you already!

I return the paper and then place the ball next to the mailbox. And I run. I don't know why. Or to where. I just run. Until I spot the café shop we first met in. I stop for a second and then run towards it. I think I'll take the lunatic's advice.