I'm staring out into the night.

He sings trying to hide the pain.

I stop breathing, stop moving, stop thinking and for a moment, I just close my eyes and listen - really really hard. I hear the soft humming of my failing computer speakers as some rock music plays, together with the tapping of my stiff traditional keyboard.

And then I hear a slight breeze by my ear, my brother's fingertips on his keyboards tapping away, the mouse frantically clicking. I hear his speakers blaring Dota sound effects as the cars along the main road grine against the tar coated roads. But yet, I don't hear fighter jets, strangely.

I hear this blaring buzz but I don't think it's it. Probably an annoying motorcycle passing by. I hear Wei Qin's voice though, mumbling in mandarin and it starts to crescendo as she gets more involved in conversation with my brother and seems to get a little excited with what she has to say. Oh, he begins to mumble back, deep and quiet.

No, no fighter jets tonight, unfortunately. Not that there aren't any in the skies but I just can't hear them, no matter how hard I listen out. I know a few of them just flew past us, high above in the skies. But I didn't see them, or hear them. Even though they're out there, I guess the distance limits the hearing range.

But I don't need to hear them to belive that they are there. I know that the fighter jets always fly past once in a while, no matter the time of the day. Even if it's not in the country's region, somewhere on earth, at least one fighter jet's high up in the sky, I believe. So, even without black-and-white proof, I believe the jets are up there. Somewhere.

And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.