Photo by Helena Lopes of pexels
Breeze poured from a rotating standing fan beside me and slipped itself beneath my cloth. It is caressing my bare skin—mainly the regions around my right arms, ribs, thighs, and legs.
The effect takes my gaze away from my phone, with which I was fiddling while intermittently reading an article from it.
For a brief moment, I gently raised my head. Admiringly, I stare at Flow and Wills, who are sitting across me in the local restaurant we all went to to have our meal. They are both lost in the virtual worlds of their phones. I love our camaraderie. I admire what we have.
My camaraderie with these two dates back to our childhood. My parents tried to make me have a feel for different worlds by travelling with me to different cities and also nudging me to honour invitations from aunts, uncles, and other relatives who stay in other cities and states.
Despite this, the major part of my upbringing was in a developing city located at the tail of the major city in my state.
Flow and Wills grew up there as well. The suburb we grew up in was a cocktail—a fine blend of different worlds. In there, you'd see people of different ethnicities and economic classes.
Not only did Flow, Wills, and I grow up in the same neighbourhood, but our parental backgrounds were also similar. Our parents weren't the richest you'd seen. But they were determined to give us, their children, a rich life.
For one, they did all they could to ensure that we shared the same classroom with the children of the elites. Being nurtured in the same environment as rich kids expanded our scope of life, ignited our passion, sharpened our vision, and fueled our dreams and aspirations.
Wills had earlier dabbled in the intriguing world of coding. I remember how he'd excitedly speak about having entered the realm of ones and zeros to discover the mysteries of technology.
"With a few lines of code, I can create video games, animated characters, and puzzles."
"I have learned through coding that imagination knows no bounds and that the power of programming can bring thoughts to life."
He'd effuse, flashing toothy grins, which revealed his dazzling dentition.
Flow studied marine engineering at a maritime academy. I remember nights and days when he'd enthuse over the magic of the sea.
Our conversation usually goes this way:
"I get to see different colourful and strange creatures. When you're in the middle of the sea, you'll see charming fish like dolphins playfully riding the waves. You'd see lovely sea turtles gently drifting in the direction of the wind towards the seashore. And the coral reefs, oh my! They look like underwater rainforests, overflowing with bright colours and teeming with little fish darting around as if they're travelling somewhere. Bro! It's a different world entirely. I will host you on a cruise ship soon. Life at sea is simply an adventure, bro"!
I'll listen, grinning from ear to ear.
Just after two years of working in the sea, Flow's excitement about sea life died down.
"I'm seriously considering a change of career," he soberly let out.
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to solve real-life problems. I believe software development will afford me the kind of life I want."
I watched him tap his computer's keyboard to reveal seemingly incongruous symbols.
A year later, he showed me mobile applications, web applications, and web pages he'd been able to build. Gradually, the money started coming.
Here I am, palling up with two programmers.
My business instincts kicked in. I remember Wills telling me that programming brings imagination to life. I allowed my thoughts to run wild. I'll later suggest a product to them that can solve real-time problems as well as fetch us good money.
"That's a brilliant idea." Wills said it on top of his voice. Flow nodded affirmatively.
To bring this imagination to life, our camaraderie grew stronger. We worked closely and met even more often.
While staring at them in the restaurant, I thought to myself, "Our childhood's residence stirred our bond. Now it's being sustained by our common vision." My lips curve to form a broad smile.
The fan rotates back in my direction. This time, the breeze shoots a reminder into my brain.
"I have to finish the article I was reading." I whisper to myself as I look back at my phone.