The Shay Rebellion | Christopher Shay

Sometime around two today, I walked to my open window and leaned out. I rested my forearms on the window sill, holding a mug of lychee black tea over a twenty-six story drop. There was nothing pressing for me to do, so I just stood there and stared at the view. I smiled and sipped my tea as I enjoyed the breeze against my face. My iTunes played Brahms’ Piano Trio No. 1 in B—though not very loudly. I still haven’t gotten around to buying speakers. I looked out and tried to find the apartment building where four of my friends live. The view of the building was blocked by some trees, but I did catch a couple from a neighboring building bringing up tea to their roof. They sat facing each other, both leaning forward until their faces almost touched. I started to imagine what romantic words they were whispering to each other, but my mind soon wandered. I thought about everything that was going well for me here. Teaching is a joy; I live with a postcard view, and I keep going to new, wonderful places in Hong Kong. But most importantly, I have met all sorts of bright, fascinating people for me to enjoy these new places with. I looked back in the direction of where my friends lived and felt pretty lucky. I finished my last sip of tea and decided to spend the rest of my day in tea shop attached to a bookstore.

EDIT: And then I found five dollars.