Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
As Carter was lost in thought, a gentle tap on his back suddenly brought him back to reality.
He frowned and turned his head, his gaze landing on a woman wearing glasses.
She appeared to be in her early thirties, about seven or eight years younger than him. She was petite and slender, dressed in a beige knitted cardigan over a simple shirt. Her attire was unpretentious, giving her the impression of a typical office worker or perhaps an assistant to a university professor.
Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she hurriedly pushed them back up, her eyes reflecting a hint of panic, clearly indicating a somewhat clumsy personality.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed quickly, instinctively touching her forehead as if she had bumped it herself. “I… I didn’t notice you there. I hope I didn’t hurt you?”
Carter looked at her, momentarily taken aback before shaking his head. “It’s fine.”
His voice was low and his tone flat, lacking much emotion, but his gaze held a hint of scrutiny. This woman didn’t seem like the young, capable political workers from the campaign team; her demeanor lacked the habitual confidence and worldly wisdom expected from seasoned political figures. Instead, she seemed more like someone who had wandered in by mistake.
He couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you?”
The woman paused for a moment before awkwardly smiling. “Oh, I’m a volunteer here. I was just organizing the speech drafts when I accidentally bumped into you. I’m really sorry.”
She adjusted her glasses again, her tone sincere. “Are you really okay?”
Seeing her earnest apology made Carter feel somewhat helpless, but he simply replied, “I’m fine.”
A relieved smile spread across her face. “That’s good!”
Her tone lacked any political jargon or excessive politeness, which made Carter feel a bit more at ease.
The woman was certainly not like those politicians who spoke only pretty words.
She scrutinized Carter carefully, her eyes flashing with curiosity as if she were trying to reconcile him with the image of a campaign volunteer in her mind.
"Are you here to be a volunteer too?" she asked, pushing up her glasses, her tone laced with a hint of inquiry.
Carter raised an eyebrow slightly, pondering for a moment before shaking his head. "Not exactly. I suppose I’m more like… a paid temp?"
His words were somewhat vague, as he himself was unsure how to define his role—he was not a politician, nor did he consider himself part of the political circle. However, he had indeed been recruited by Rain, and at least until the election was over, he did "belong" here.
Upon hearing this, the curiosity on the woman’s face shifted to skepticism. Her brows furrowed slightly as she spoke with a hint of doubt, "Paid temp? Is there such a thing here?"
Tilting her head, she scanned Carter from top to bottom, as if trying to determine whether he was being serious.
"How come I’ve never seen you before?" She crossed her arms, her tone taking on an interrogative edge.
Carter was about to respond when the woman suddenly seemed to have an epiphany. Her eyes widened dramatically in shock as she took a half-step back, raising the documents in her hand high as if preparing to strike.
"You’re not some party worker sent by someone else, are you?!" Her tone was exaggerated, resembling someone who had just uncovered an enemy spy. "You’re here to infiltrate our camp and steal secrets, aren’t you?!"
The papers in her hands flapped wildly with her movements, some even fluttering out into the air. It looked both like an attack and a farcical joke at the same time.
Carter was taken aback for a moment; what kind of logic was operating in this woman's mind?
He furrowed his brow, his tone filled with resignation. "If you think these few pieces of paper can take me down, then go ahead and try."
The woman stared at him for two seconds before bursting into laughter, setting the documents aside. With a lighthearted tone, she said, "Alright then, you don't seem like a bad person."
Carter looked down at the scattered papers on the floor and let out a soft sigh. Suddenly, he felt that this election battle might be much livelier than he had anticipated.
The woman put down the documents and adjusted her glasses, revealing a warm and genuine smile. "My name is Keisha. I'm a clerk at the supermarket nearby. Nice to meet you."
Carter was taken aback for a moment, somewhat surprised.
Such an ordinary statement might mean little to others, but for him, it had been a long time since he had received such a friendly invitation for friendship.
He thought back to when he was last introduced so straightforwardly, with genuine goodwill rather than mere politeness or social niceties. How long had it been?
On the battlefield, no one asked such questions. The world after his discharge felt even more indifferent.
In bars, people would ask, "What do you want to drink?"
In the workplace, they would ask, "Whose shift are you covering?"
No one would ask, "Who are you? Nice to meet you."
He fell silent for a second but quickly regained his composure. He raised his hand and extended his rough palm to shake hands with Keisha. "Carter Black," he said simply.
His tone was neither overly warm nor completely indifferent; it carried a subtle hesitation, as if he was still getting used to this kind of interaction.
But Keisha's smile remained radiant, showing no signs of embarrassment due to his awkwardness.
Carter withdrew his hand, slightly adjusting to this long-lost normal social exchange, and then asked, "Are you going to the rally later?"
Keisha nodded immediately, answering without hesitation, "Of course!"
Her tone was cheerful, but her eyes sparkled with seriousness. "I wouldn't call myself a political fanatic, but I believe that if we do nothing, society will only get worse."
She smiled and tilted her head, asking, "What about you? Why are you here?"
Carter didn't answer right away. He looked down at the campaign vest he was wearing and then softly said, "Because I want to see if change is really possible."
Upon hearing Carter's words, Keisha's eyes lit up, and a genuine smile spread across her face as if she had found a rare companion.
"Exactly! After all, if we don't try, how will we know if it will succeed?" Her tone was light yet carried a hint of determination, as if stating a simple yet challenging truth.
She tilted her head slightly, crossing her arms over her chest, her voice infused with confidence and anticipation. "And I believe Mr. Ryan can definitely make it happen."
Her eyes shimmered with a belief in the future, as if she could see a vision that could truly be realized. "I have great faith in him."
Carter couldn't help but smile.
The woman's thoughts were simple and straightforward, devoid of the calculations typical of politicians, and lacking the cynicism often found among the underprivileged. She genuinely believed that the world could become a better place.
This kind of optimism had long since vanished from Carter's world, yet at this moment, it brought him a sense of... long-lost ease.
He was about to speak, ready to respond in some way—
"Keisha! Hurry up, the event is about to start!"
A voice called out from the crowd, urgent and brisk, likely belonging to a volunteer coordinator busy organizing the scene.
"Ah! Coming!"
Keisha suddenly turned around, flustered as she grabbed her folder, nearly dropping her glasses. She waved hurriedly at Carter. "Bye! See you later!"
Without waiting for Carter's reply, she dashed toward the crowd, disappearing among the bustling staff at the campaign headquarters.
Carter stood in place, watching her figure gradually fade away.
The crowd swirled around him, everyone busy preparing for tonight's rally, yet his gaze remained fixed on the direction Keisha had gone. For some reason, he felt a faint echo lingering in his heart.
He sighed softly, looked down to pat his campaign vest, then tightened his grip on his notebook, ready to embrace the evening's event.
Comment 0 Comment Count