"How do you deal with sadness?"

(Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction! Any similarities to the real world are simply coincidental. Actually, it's more like rambling.)

"How do you deal with stress?"

"Uh..."

"Okay. How do you deal with anxiety?"

"I'm...uh...um..."

"I understand. What about death?"

"Excuse me what?"

"It is a bit too hard for you? Let's change it a little bit. How do you deal with sadness?"

"I...I don't...Can you slow down a bit, please? I can not really keep up with the questions."

"Mr. Son. Please know that we do not have much time, and this is a real examination to see if you have the mental capacity to join our program."

The nurse in a white mask puts her pen down gently and pushes her glasses up with her right hand. I swear I saw it glowing up like in those animes. On her desk is a white piece of paper that has all of my credentials. Next to it is a small pen. She has been using that pen to note down my answers, which is none at this point.

"I know! But these questions are just...weird..." Bowing my head in apologies, I tell her the truth. Who on earth would ask these ridiculous questions for a job interview, honestly? And they even forced me to sign a consignment paper before doing the test!

"Haaaaaaaaaah! You know we have many patients outside, right?" She sighs deeply while looking at me.

I sheepishly reply. "Yes, Mam."

"This is a hospital. And right now..." She puts her watch up for me to see. "...is rush hour."

My face feels hot as embarrassment consumes me. "I'm very sorry for being late...I was running an errand for my Mom."

"See? We are all busy. Please understand that I have to push it a little bit. I'll give you one more chance, okay? Mr. Son?" She takes out a new piece of paper from the brown desk in front. Her voice remains stoic, unchanged.

"Three simple questions this time. Number one. How do you deal with stress?"

"I play video games." This time, I quickly answer.

*Scribble*

"Okay. How do you deal with anxiety?" She looks at me with strange eyes. I have no idea how to describe them. As if she is looking at a three-year-old kid or something.

"I...um...I play video games."

*Scribble*

"How do you deal with sadness?" The stare becomes more intense.

"I...I order some ice cream!..."

"Good. That's better. Anything else?" She nods her head slightly

I really wish I could say it differently. "And then I play video games."

*Crack*

What the heck?! Did I hear a crack of the pen just now?!

Looking at her right hand, I can see some dark blue ink splashing here and there. Did she seriously just break it by squeezing it hard?! What monstrous strength!

*Rustle*

She takes a piece of white tissue from the box on my right to wipe the ink off her hand.

"You are done, Mr. Son." The nurse coldly says. She clearly does not me in this office any longer.

"Th...thank you for the interview! It would be an honor to work with you in the future!" I stand up from my chair and bow.

But as I touch the door, she calls me back.

"Wait. The last question is not about sadness. I gave you the easier version."

Once more, I meet her eyes. It is still showing annoyance. I'm sorry, Mam...

"Tell me, what do you think about death?" She looks straight at me, yet I feel as if she is staring into my soul.

"Death is needed." I try my best to give her a serious answer. To be fair, if she asked what I would do, I would still say playing video games.

"Thank you! That will be all." Her voice seems to be a little bit softer after my answer.

"Thank you very much, Miss, ...um..."

She covers her whole face with both hands. "My name is Phuong. Didn't you read my name tag?"

"Haha...I was so nervous I didn't..."

"Go home, Mr. Son. We have patients outside." The nurse then tidies up the table and walks out with me for a little bit. "You remember where you came in, right? Just straight that way. I got to go now."

"Thank you very much, Ms. Phuong."

She turns left at a corridor with the piece of paper with my answers on it. As I walk, I can see loads of people lining up for their number.

Not only that, but I can see people crying and laughing hysterically. Yet no one seems to mind that. At this place, the local Memory Hospital, it probably is the norm to have people showing emotions.

Suddenly, I hear a big wailing sound of a man.

"GAAAAAAAAAAH! NO! MY CHILD! MY ONLY CHILD!! DON'T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!"

Security guards in black and blue uniforms are 'gently' escorting a middle-aged man from the hospital. The man keeps on crying out loud with his face distorted into something that is not something you would normally see in a man in his 50s.

He fights really hard. Kicking and grabbing the people around him, pleading to be let inside once more. It takes three young security guards just to take the man out. That is how desperate he is.

People look at him with eyes full of pity. But I'm just curious. What is up with him? What is up with this place? Why is he crying about his child? Are they dead or something?

I mean probably. This is called the Memory Hospital, after all. It is most certainly not a normal hospital where they save lives.

Until I take my bike out from the parking lot, I still have no clue why he was behaving in such a way.

*Ting-ting*

I need to test the chimes on the bicycle. That is always the first thing I do whenever I use my bike. It just feels odd when I don't do it.

I start pedaling home. The image of the father begging to go back inside is buried deep into my head.

If I do get the job as an observer, then this will be a really good paying one. Still, I wonder if I can take the burden like that man.

That is probably the reason why they would force people to sign the consignment form. Things like that can not be shown, anyway.