Page 5 - Demo

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Rush hour finds me trampled relentlessly under the frantic feet of pedestrians. The air is emanating energy, coiled up in tensely wound springs, thrumming in the briefcases that brush my side. It is a kind of energy oversaturated with anxiety, and it struggles against me, preventing me from solidifying into form.
It has not always been like this. In the old days people were able to breathe me in, harness me and clasp their reward in their palms triumphantly. I can recall countless times when disheveled migrants stowed me in their hearts as they braved the currents, collapsing on Hong Kong tarmac, breathless but filled to the brim with a burning pride. Entrepreneurs at the cusp of the ‘70s economic boom, tucking me securely in their manila folders, striding on stages to draw up some of the most ambitious business ventures I have ever seen. Technological developers, cradling me into form, slotting their creations together in the dim light of a small lamp. Opportunities blazing into reality, chances taken and futures molded into shape.
Those days are long gone.
I drift idly into a room, crisp white walls and smart suits all around. An underlying stench of sweat pervades the air-conditioned office, and it weakens me, reduces me to a mere silhouette. At the end of a long desk sits a young woman in her twenties, her hair tied into a neat bun. Her hands are trembling with a negative charge, and I recoil when I accidentally brush against her. Her skin is icy cold, residual of the vodka and pills she downed last night, coupled with bitter despondence.
She answers the questions with a calm facade, but I can see in the interviewers’ eyes that she’s lost. She has forgotten all about me.
At night I follow her back to her flat, watch helplessly as she kicks off her heels and downs the bottle of cheap beer in the fridge. Watch as she leafs through yet another page of job offers in the local paper, watch as she crumples it up with dejection churning through her fist. I nudge her shoulder, get no response. I see her could have been-s, scenarios in which she blazes into the interview room with me burning in her eyes, her excelling in her newfound job. Her seizing the opportunities that are now slipping through her nimble fingers with each panicked