Despondency always happens. But the problem depends on age. Some people cry while some people do not. It depends on age.

From time to time, I recall that young man working in The Ryder’s. But every time I mention him in detail, people always stare at me with astonishment. They keep persuading me that there is no such man at all. The confusion has been haunting me for a long time. I can still sketch the young man’s image without hesitation. I even remember how many freckles he had on his face. How can my memory go wrong?

It was dull and raining that morning. I was invited to The Ryder’s to deliver a speech about my career as a painter. After arriving at the hotel, a sudden headache overwhelmed me. I turned to the receptionist for some help, but he was indulged in wearing a fake smile. “Madam, here is your room key. It’s our great honour to have you here!” His voice had no ups and downs. In the meantime, I heard something buzzing. My headache was getting worse. “Sorry, any ibuprofen? My head hurts.” I was leaning on the front desk. “And... Let me see.” The receptionist fixed his eyes on the monitor. “Madam, No.27 will have your luggage. Have a nice day!” Still no ups and downs. My view was gradually obscured by a strong figure. “Madam, please follow me this way.”

My suitcase was swiftly picked up by him. I had no choice but to endure the pain and keep up. Many precious manuscripts were in that suitcase, but I was too weak to protect them. “Could you please get me some painkiller? The lecture is scheduled to start in two hours. I don’t want to mess it up.” My voice trailed off. When I came to my senses, No.27 was gone. Not a single word was left. I used my remaining strength to rummage through my suitcase to see whether I had some pills. Two gentle knocks at the door interrupted my panic. “Housekeeper, may I come in?”

“I am No.42 and here’s some ibuprofen.” The young man smiled, in a different way. “I guess you may wonder why they ignore your request?” I nodded. “It’s our rule. No personal contact with customers other than hotel business. And nobody knows why. Or, at least I’m excluded.” He whispered, but in a light tone. I found his eyes bright and his spirits high. “I’ve only been working here a few days! Frankly, I couldn’t bear their indifference. But No.27 told me it is no big deal. It’s their practice! Hell, what kind of practice?”

“Besides such tyranny, tight schedules and poor pay are also normal. I did complain to some of my colleagues, but they just ridicule my fragility. I don’t think I’m vulner...” “No.42, our manager called for you.” A familiar voice interrupted the young man’s unceasing flow of words and disappeared within seconds. The young man waved to me and left in strides.

I took out a plate of pills. A note fell out and said, “George. Call this number if you need any more help.” A smiley face was scrawled at the bottom. I was speechless and could not help sobbing, having no idea whether it was because of the headache or his behaviour. The sound insulation of the hotel was poor. Soon I heard some people quarrelling in the courtyard garden. “It’s No.42? No, it’s... It’s George.” I murmured. Looking down the window, I witnessed the hotel staff surrounding him. The fog was so heavy that I couldn’t see any expressions on their face. But George ripped off his badge and began to talk agitatedly. “It is ABNORMAL! Why don’t you ever let me finish speaking?” There was no reply. “What are you afraid of? My words? No, no. They are only facts. How can one man be afraid of facing facts?” This time I could hear some noises, but still no reply. I clenched the note, repeating that string of numbers over and over again. When I came to my senses, the garden was empty and silent. It was as if that hubbub had never happened. Looking all around the room, I shivered. Some books in the corner caught my eye. I saw Frankenstein among them. Again.

Browsing that book, I dialled George’s number. “Sorry! The number you dialled does not exist, please check it and dial later. Sorry! The number you dialled does not exist, please...” I cut off the line. My eyes scanned several times the number on the screen. It was the right one. “Again?” “Sorry! The number you dialled does not exist, please check it and dial later. Sorry! ... Sorry! ...” I did not cut it off. The sound kept lingering. I could not remember when it ceased. Or, had it ever ceased?

No.27 guided me to the conference hall. “Where is No.42?” “Sorry madam, for years, we only have 41 in-service staff.” I did not give up. “You know George?” I saw a flicker of doubt and annoyance cross his face, but he soon reverted to his old self, poker-faced. “Wish you success!” He opened the door for me and walked away at once.

When sharing my experience, I saw George sitting in the audience. He glowed with great interest. Several times, I resisted my eagerness to step down and talk to him. However, we were both swallowed, even suffocated in the long-lasting atmosphere of disregard. Everyone at present seemed to have lost their vitality. They had no passion for life, beauty, or art. They were staring at me wide in ignorance, claiming soundlessly that they are used to all.

“How vapid!” Glazing at the canvas in front of me, I come out with a sigh. Veritably, I have been struggling with insomnia and over-accurate memory since I met George that hazy morning. But everyone else insists that he never existed.

I have to draw something out of my mind.

I am so powerless that I could alter nothing.

No.42 was forgotten. No.42 died.

George remains alive; thus, my painting comes to life. That was a gush of flames, reflecting him.