Yellow-hat co

Riz stayed up a little longer. His arm groaned as he shifted his weight. He should sleep soon, but that was at least thirty movie clips ago.

A little longer, a little longer. Riz hugged the static glow of his tiny screen. He wasn't reading anything; he swiped to feel the rush of colours through his eyes. He had considered redownloading a game, and he had. The slow progression did not offer the same thrill as his other apps did, though.

The study outside his bedroom was dark now. His mother had just finished sorting through his late-night laundry. He thought of his friends. None of them are awake now, and if they were, they'd call him to sleep. No, he rather find company in the saturated glow of boring MSN news.

Swipe. Refresh. Download. Delete. He rubbed his eye and flipped his body again, until. Until.

The phone slowed. The screen stuttered. The intimacy between his eyes plunged into heavy darkness. Toads and cat calls rang distantly across the room.

Riz blinked. He tried again. Perhaps it was a faulty, unconnected port. The charger scraped against his cheap screen protector. Nothing.

In his single-living bedroom, the fan stills. The lights remain shut. The toads had gained particular volume tonight. It was until his face felt the humid summer heat that he realised the power was out.

He sat up from his sunken mattress. He peered out his half-veiled windows to check on his unnamed neighbours. Grey, fluorescent lights blinked lazily. He laughed dryly, gripping his hand around his phone tightly. Surely, this was just a circuit trip. It was one of many that happened at his side of home, but rarely now.

Riz had already stayed up that night. He might as well stay up longer.

He held his phone close as he tip-toed out to his study. He tried on a switch. Nothing. He descended into the living room. The Wi-fi router had lost its signature glow. He had considered moving a tall chair to check the breakers, but it was late, and he hadn't bothered himself with domestic electrician work anyway.

He went to the one person who knew everything.

He crept to an equally dark bedroom. The air getting lighter as a soft breeze hummed through the doorway.

"Mum?"

His mouth parted before he had a better view of his mum sprawled out on bed. She barely made it to her bedframe. She slept lightly, her face screwed shut. Mild winds rattled and bellowed the steel, half-shut window frame. She mumbled something in her sleep.

Riz decided it was best he stayed quiet. He was about to leave when he spotted a power bank scattered haphazardly across his mum's dressing table, along with her phone and other personal essentials.

His eyes tingled. He could take it. His mum wouldn't mind; mum never minded. But it was hers, and it was late. His phone sat heavily in his hand.

He reached out. From the corner of the door, he brushed his mum's phone. Her screen lighted up from the motion. Riz's eyes snapped to attention. It was near 4am then. An alarm was about to go off in 15 minutes.

15 minutes? Riz asked.

That's way too early, he mused, until he remembered his mum had to commute early tonight.

He sighed. He placed his phone in the living room and came back with a pillow. Mum's room was always breezier, anyway.

He sat his pillow down to sleep.

I stole a line from a show the otherday; something about how I'd forget if I had no one to tell. I've remembered it vividly since.

I think I forget too. There's a lot of things I dont remember once considered done and dusted. And there's a few things that stuck with me because I told someone, or, rather, they wouldn't let me forget.

Because it's a piece of me embedded between us now.

If I don't tell someone, I'd forget. But I don't have a lot of friends I'd willingly tell because I want to forget. This costed me distance. There is no uncomfortable wedge that welds us together.

There's plenty of things unsaid because I rather forget than being remembered as raw, awkward, and undone. Though, I probably already am either way.

I'm someone who forgets. By habit I scrub away my humiliation but also the lessons that come with it. I undo the untidy growth. I leave asking why I've never learned anything at all.

still here yall..

Im building a collection

No recognisable human facial features -- ie, no human shaped faces, so Zane and Guinevere don't count. The more robot or u human it looks, the better. Roz doesn't have a human face and Caine is a set of dentures, so it's fine)