PROLOGUEOne…Please.Two…He was still walking.Three…He didn’t turn around.

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Matt I. Am. So. Done. Two months ago Mrs. Maribelle had told us about our project – a very big one. I mean, it’s literally big. “You are to construct a tower made of straw,” she said. “The minimum height would be at least five feet high.” Right after she announced the details, my classmates and I kept looking at each other, which meant ‘we need to kill her, this woman…” But I already had a plan. I was going to use the PETRONAS Twin Towers as my model. Back when I was at kindergarten, my mother would always make drawings of the twin towers, and I recall myself looking at them, astonished. The way my mother drew them… they were incredible. She was incredible. “It’s easy,” she used to tell me. “You just have to put your mind and your heart in every drawing you make.” But then she would add, “…but if you are to draw anything, pick the one you love the most, and

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I swear, Matt, you’ll be surprised with the result.” She would smile. She smiled all the time. I never saw her getting upset about something. She was the happiest person I knew, and I believed that I was the happiest boy, too – until time ruined everything. My mother’s smile was so beautiful that you can’t even tell she was sick. “Mom, it’s marvelous,” I told her as she was drawing the Eiffel Tower. She was a big fan of towers, but the twin towers were her most favorite. “Marvelous. I learned that word today, mom.” She smiled. She always did. “It’s good to know that your vocabulary’s getting-“ Her words suddenly stopped. Then she was on the floor, unconscious. I shouted to call dad, then we rushed her into the emergency room. We waited for three hours. My father was hugging me. He was crying, and I started crying, too. “Mr. Mickelson?” “I’m here,” my father said. “What’s… Is she… I mean-“

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“I’m afraid we did everything we could, Mr. Mickelson. I’m sorry,” the doctor said and then walked away. It didn’t sink in easily. My father started to punch the walls, and I was just standing there, crying. My mother can’t be dead. She was happy a while ago and was talking to me. She was smiling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you your mother was sick, Matt,” he said as he held my hand. “Your mother didn’t want me to tell you. But believe me, son, we’ve been planning to tell you.” I didn’t completely understand everything. All I knew was my mother’s gone… and I’m mad about it. But then, every time I closed my eyes, I see her smiling. Maybe, just maybe, she’s still happy. It was after that incident when I started to admire the twin towers more. I started collecting everything with twin towers in it. I always liked the feeling… the feeling that I get when the most beautiful woman in the world was still alive.

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This was the reason why I was excited for the project. Finally, I get to do something I love… and I’ll get graded for it. As soon as I got home, I started planning it; the layout, the materials, everything. I spent a week of trial-and-errors constructing the tower. But then…I met Jade.

Jade

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