Midsummer Dream House

 

Rainy Day

It rained. For breakfast, we had xiaolongbao, and during snack time, we enjoyed cheese crackers. While waiting for the rain to stop, we sipped rich hot chocolate. Raindrops danced on the windows, creating a joyful spectacle. We captured our daughter, lost in lines and colors, drawing a birthday dinosaur. Her smile, the whisper of pens across paper, filled the room with life. We shared these pictures on our WeChat moments, the vibrant colors contrasting with the gray sky outside. We kissed her forehead, her soft skin carrying the milk-sweet scent. We snuggled on the couch, watching a tired mom and her stern mother-in-law argue on TV. Their expressions were overly dramatic, and their emotions too intense. You mentioned that you couldn’t handle such melodramatic soap operas—reasons like excessive falseness and drama—and I told you that I had trimmed my hair last night, my bangs no longer covering my eyes, which surprised us both, the new finding that despite spending every day together, there were still many changes to notice. We turned off the TV and continued cuddling on the couch, discussing which restaurant to go to for dinner and which movie to watch tonight. However, the corner of the living room emitted occasional unpleasant odors from the hamster cage, assaulting our senses. I stood up and fetched a plastic bag from the kitchen. You suggested we change the hamster’s bedding together. Holding our breath, we used a plastic spoon to transfer the soiled bedding from the cage into the bag, yellow stains visible on the white material. The curious hamster peered out from the cage, looking at us with its large, watery black eyes. We stroked its soft fur. You brewed a pot of oolong tea, and I played some music on my phone. I rested my head on your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your body. I narrated the love story of the main characters from the book I had been reading recently. Outside, rain performed a pitter-patter serenade on the leaves, a sound I anticipated would be irksome. Yet, as the performance persisted, its rhythm morphed into a comforting lullaby, its steady beats offering unexpected solace.

 

Fiction by Huina Zheng

 

 

Huina Zheng, a Distinction M.A. in English Studies holder, works as a college essay coach. She’s also an editor at Bewildering Stories. Her stories have been published in Baltimore Review, Variant Literature, Midway Journal, and others. Her work has received nominations twice for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. She resides in Guangzhou, China with her husband and daughter.