Daniel feels the heavy gloom from across the room. "Are you depressed Kaoru doesn't want to see you ever again? I'm sorry. Maybe, you're not ready to be dating."

"It's more the triathlon," El mutters.*

"Don't let yesterday get to you. That sorta negativity opens up holes in our world for bad spirits to enter!"

El turns his attention to the bottom of his glass cookie jar, where an empty space the size of a fingernail has yet to be covered with one, maybe two paper cranes. He hesitates to complete the last fold to the crane already in his hand.

"I'm not the only one," El replies.

"What does that mean?" Daniel asks, sitting by his bedside, confused.

"Everyone has at least one in their life, right?"

"One what?"

"Regret," El sighs.

"Regrets? That's a part of life!" Daniel smiles.

El, his energy returning, completes the folds to the small paper crane.

He places the piece into the empty spot in the jar, realizing an additional crane is needed to cover the bottom completely.

Instead, El walks to the window, where a reflection of himself is staring back at him. The reflection triggers many more unfulfilled moments and the countless disappointments with his father.

"You know that saying, El? About how life is cruel? Your experiences tend to be slightly more challenging than us 'normal' people. For sure, they're unique. Eventually, everyone gets to where they need to be...when the time is right. Maybe, your time isn't now."

El chuckles.

"What's so funny?" Daniel asks.

**El laughs louder. "Are you trying to convince me that my date with Kaoru was supposed to end up so badly? It's no lost to me. After dinner, we came back to to play chess. She asked me to remove my shoes. So, I did. And, then she was strangely more interested in my feet than having me teach her the 'Blitzkrieg' move. It weirded me out."

"At least, you didn't take her to Panda Express like I told you not to," Daniel adds.

El's laugh turns uneasy, knowing he did the opposite. Daniel's laughter confuses him. He is uncertain if he is laughing with him, and not at him.

"Like I said, I don't know the future, but I can interpret it. That was your first date, El. Nobody EVER gets it right the first time."

An unexpected pause hints another embarrassing moment from El's past.

Daniel infers, "Wait. Have you ever kissed a girl before?!"

"My cousin kissed me once."

"El," Daniel, disgusted, makes a sour face. "Maybe, it's best you don't talk about that."

El shrugs his shoulders; his understanding is equal to a child's cognitive understanding to the real world.

He completes folding the last crane that would cover the jar's bottom. Before placing the crane inside, he analyzes the folds under the light with his palm. Like a jeweler putting the finishing touches to a freshly crafted diamond, he is patient and precise when positioning between the spaces of the surrounding cranes.

He notices a few imperfections at the edge of the crane's head which he corrects with careful, repeated motions of his fingers until the symmetry turns flawless.

"I picked out the notable parts of your palm, and I was able to analyze your future," Daniel says, pulling out a notebook from his pocket.

"According to my calculations there are a number of interesting things that connect your past, present and future," Daniel states, reviewing the scribbles inside the spiral notepad.

"El, your experiences, no matter how strange and difficult they seem, are purposeful."

Daniel continues flipping through the pages, skipping more than half of the contents until he arrives at the page he needs to emphasize.

El places the crane into the jar. Finally, the entire bottom of the glass jar is blanketed with small paper cranes as Daniel begins muttering several long, indecipherable sentences in Mandarin.

Daniel starts to talk under his breath, searching for the English words that would best translate his calculations in a way that would make sense to his non-Chinese speaking roommate.

"El, listen," Daniel says in a more serious tone. "The fate of the world depends on your son."