Blue masks, red masks and the green mask

Another hard day of training at the club, and another harder night of equipment packing in the store room before going back to my room to sleep. I was alone again, hanging the suits, breeches, plastrons and the like onto the shelf and keeping the blades onto the stands where they belong.

The smell of stale sweat and saw dust lingered.

It's time to keep the masks. I always liked to arrange the masks properly in the cupboard according to their colours. Sometimes I would keep them separated into their different colours, while other times I would mix and match to form various shapes and contrasts. Made my mundane job as the logistics 'officer' a little brighter.

I stared at the big blue mask I always wear during trainings. I looked inside of it again, which was filled with nothing but the odour of my sweat.

I was suddenly reminded of the research article I read a few days ago. It was regarding the science of attraction, and the aspect of how our scent gives us an advantage in identifying a partner with different genetics so as to maximise the immunity system of our offspring. In other words, the more potential that prospective partner is, the more pleasant his or her scent is.

So out of plain curiosity, I picked up a mask and moved my head closer to it, before putting it back to that cupboard.

Aileen, Bernard, Danny, Eileen, Frank, Geraldine, Herald, Ignatius, Jacqueline, Kathleen, Linda...

And finally, Claudia. That green mask belongs to her.

I did not know Claudia for a long time, but that first day when I saw her at the club, she was familiarly strange to me. That moment was a little awkward, when I stared at her for a prolonged period of time that might have been considered rude. She turned around and looked at me too. And we finally smiled briefly at each other after a long silence.

Her movements were graceful, her steps like a dancer communicating to her opponent like her audience. I named her blade 'Ballerina's Point', but she never knew.

Once in a while, I would ask her out for lunch and we would go to the nearby food centre and order a plate of fishball noodles each. And she would take out her candy pouch full of gummy bears and offer it to me. I would reject her kind offer even though I liked gummy bears as much as she did, but she never knew.

It was never about my lack of courage. Perhaps I am just not sure about myself. Perhaps I am more afraid of myself than afraid of her. Maybe she knew, or maybe she didn't.

I stared at the green mask for an eternal second.

And took a deep breath.