The Man Who Knew Nothing

I took Elias to a small café near the hospital.

It was the only place still open.

He sat across from me, staring at the menu like it was written in an unknown language.

“You've never seen a menu?”

“I have.”

“Then why are you staring at it?”

“Because I don't understand half of it.”

I laughed.

“Where did you say you were from?”

He looked at me.

“A very distant place.”

“Another country?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

He hesitated.

“It's complicated.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Of course it is.”

The waitress brought our drinks.

Elias stared at the coffee.

“What is this?”

I nearly choked.

“Coffee.”

He picked up the cup carefully.

“You drink this?”

“Yes.”

He took a sip.

His expression changed.

He looked genuinely horrified.

I burst out laughing.

“You hate it?”

“What is it?”

“Coffee!”

“Why would anyone willingly drink this?”

“Because some of us have jobs.”

He looked confused.

“You work?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do?”

“Anything that pays.”

I looked down at my hands.

“I clean offices during the day. Sometimes I work at a restaurant at night.”

He was silent.

“You work that much?”

“I have to.”

“For your mother?”

“Yes.”

He looked away.

There was something strange about his expression.

Almost sadness.

“What about your father?”

I stiffened.

“He's dead.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

It wasn't.

But I had learned a long time ago that poor people didn't have the luxury of grieving forever.

I changed the subject.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Family.”

His fingers tightened around the coffee cup.

“I had a father.”

“Had?”

“He is dead.”

“And your mother?”

He didn't answer.

I realized I had asked too much.

“Sorry.”

He looked at me.

“My mother is alive.”

Something in his voice told me there was more.

But he didn't continue.

A few minutes later, he looked at the phone on the table.

“What is that?”

“My phone.”

“What does it do?”

I stared at him.

“You're kidding.”

“No.”

I picked it up.

“You really don't know?”

“No.”

I showed him the screen.

He watched carefully.

“You can speak to someone who is far away?”

“Yes.”

“Without seeing them?”

“Yes.”

His expression became thoughtful.

“That sounds like magic.”

I laughed.

“You really are strange.”

He smiled.

“Perhaps your world is strange.”

I looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

He said nothing.

Later that night, I gave him my spare key.

He stared at it.

“You trust me?”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I don't?”

“I said you could stay. I didn't say I trusted you.”

He smiled.

“That is fair.”

I walked toward the door.

“Elara.”

I turned.

“Yes?”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“Thank you.”

I smiled.

“Good night, Elias.”

When I reached my apartment, I noticed something strange.

There was a small silver mark on the palm of my hand.

I had never seen it before.

It looked like a crescent moon surrounded by tiny stars.

I rubbed it.

It disappeared.

I thought nothing of it.

I should have.

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