9th Excerpt of Ellory, a fiction novel
Ellen Effy Su. August 17, 2025.
“Hey, Ella, let’s meet at Gosuke for sushi. I made a reservation for 7 tonight. How was it? I hope you enjoyed meeting your old friend,” Elliot’s voice came out strained and breathy.
He was running along the Hudson River and decided to pause for a few minutes to call his girlfriend. His perspiration glistened underneath the August sun. His white compression T-shirt was soaked, and he caught the eye of four gay men. They weren’t shy at all, lustfully gazing at the lines of his six-pack abs, daring to poke through his translucent shirt. Elliot was not vocally vain about his desired physique, but he felt motivated to climb out of Ellory’s West Elm dusty blue performance chenille crossweave non-tufted tall headboard platform bed with standard champagne bronze legs, at 5:30 to 5:45 AM, to run in Central Park.
Ellory occasionally joined him for his ritual morning jogs. Ellory hated running as a sport, so it went to show how she was willing to do something she disliked to spend time with her favorite boy. The things people do for the ones they love range from tiny acts of walking on the side of the pavement nearest the passing vehicles, and waking up early to exercise.
Elliot never slept in. Ellory sometimes slept in. Her Saatva handcrafted in the United States king-size mattress offered premium cushioning, back support, and the plant-based thistle pulp and wool flame barrier. Its organic cotton cover absorbed a botanical antimicrobial agent that reduces the growth of bacteria, mold, and mildew. This agent is Guardin. Ellory conducted extensive research before making significant purchases.
“A 25-year-old human has slept for 73,000 hours, on average. Sleep is important. Time is of the essence. How conflicting! I wish I could sleep fourteen hours per day. No, I wish I could sleep forever,” Ellory moaned into her bamboo pillow. She punched the pillow with her left fist.
“Ow, I shouldn’t have done that. I was planning on reconnecting with Czerny tomorrow. I have a busy day scheduled!”
“Wakey, wakey, Ella! It’s 6 AM. The native New Yorkers are awake and working now. You ought to get up. Have breakfast,” Elliot sounded responsible. He had changed a lot since his university days.
Elliot never knew him back then, which was a good thing because Ellory would not have liked his former persona or habits of choice.
Elliot replayed their conversation in the morning while he jogged along the trail. Ellory left their apartment around 8 AM. She drank hot lemon water, green tea, and a glass of matcha latte, prior to leaving. She was into soluble-less breakfasts nowadays, especially on hectic days. It worried Elliot to see Ellory skip the most important meal of the day. He didn’t say anything, nor did he push her. She said she was getting brunch with an old friend. He didn’t want to burst her piercable bubble.
He paired his Uniqlo AlRism cotton T-shirt to his Lululemon blue jersey shorts. His navy Hokas supported his feet as his mind raced. He hadn’t communicated with his parents for four months. Ellory rarely asked about his parents. Their first conversation was the only time Elliot brought up his mother and father. Elliot’s parents were in love after all these years. That was a fact. Elliot had a difficult relationship with his parents, a fact he chose to withhold from Ellory. Ella had enough to face. He didn’t want to add to her burden.
She didn’t want to share too much about her best friend Nicole. She didn’t want Elliot to judge Nikki by her worst mistake before seeing her golden traits. Genuine friends don’t backstab. They support unconditionally, unless it is an unforgivable act.
Ellory hugged Nicole goodbye after they ate brunch at THEP.
“Alright, don’t be a stranger. You can call me anytime. I love you, Nikki. We can try pierogies at Veselka in the East Village next time. My classmate Kat is Polish and raved about their pierogies,” Ellory advised as she pulled back from hugging Nicole.
“I’ll call you more often. I’ll even text. I can’t believe I went two years rogue. Seeing you is like coming home,” Nicole’s lips pursed, then upturned into a reassuring smile.
“Get home safe. Love you, bye,” Ellory widened her eyes.
She perfected the innocent doe eye smize. The trump card to get out of anything minor is a cute smile, confidence, a smooth Gemini voice, and a steady gaze brave enough to hold a stare into someone’s eyes.
“Love you, bye,” Nicole whispered.
It’s strange how people who have shared a bed go back to being strangers, capable of being curious to look up the other’s name on Instagram, Facebook, or LinkedIn, yet are too cowardly to like a post or send a message to express they still care. Gen-Z has curated the nonsensical approach to ending friendships, relationships, and situationships.
Gen-Z shares their location 24/7 with close friends on the Instagram Map, a geological tool to check where Nicole or Elliot is. The younger generation of fresh adults views this type of stalking as a sign of concern or fan activity. As opposed to the teenagers and young adults of the early 2000s, 2025’s college kids are a distinct breed of nonchalant creatures. Who can care less is the new game? Nobody cares about chasing an It girl or an It boy. Gen-Z is preoccupied with creating starpower lives for themselves and occasionally swipes through the social media profiles of those they once knew, five lifetimes ago.
Yes, Gen-Z measures each year as a lifetime. Meeting thousands of people each year hits a sweet spot of forgetting unbearable memories. Useful for the heartbroken, Gen-Z doesn’t need to utilize hypnosis to forget the archers. They axe the archers before the archers aim their bows. In the wild, there is always prey to be hunted. Gen-Z would rather inebriate themselves hollow and show up at a pilates class in the AM, than sit for hours in a stale gray doctor’s office to discuss the unhealthy coping of their parasocial relationships.
It was 1 PM when he called Ellory.
“Hi Elli, sure. I’m always in the mood for sushi. It was nice seeing my friend again. It felt like coming home. I’ll see you later,” Ellory piped up to speak to Elliot.
Ellory walked to Zadig et Voltaire on Madison Avenue to buy a crossbody bag. She appeared to be talking to herself if an onlooker saw her a street away. She talked into the air. Her AirPods Fourth Generation caught onto her words effortlessly.
“I’m on a run right now. I’ll talk to you later. It’s good you reconnected with her. I’m expecting a storytime later,” Elliot replied.
Ellory selected a purple Rock clutch at Zadig et Voltaire, versatile to wear as a crossbody bag or shoulder bag. She tapped her card to pay and exited the store quickly. She walked home within ten minutes. She loved to stroll around the Upper East Side. She always dreamed of living here. She went to school here, but her home was on the Upper West Side. There was a difference. She was never part of the In crowd. She didn’t mind. It gave her free time to tour museums and shops whenever she wanted to.
She saw Vivian’s sneakers in the shoe cabinet on the left side of the entryway. She thought Vivian would go outside and explore for fun, instead of lounging at home. Ellory assumed Vivian was watching TV in her room. She would check on her after her shower.
Ellory took a fifteen-minute shower once she stepped into her bathroom oasis of ocean blue and white marble tile. She rinsed the Oribe Gold Lust shampoo and conditioner out of her medium-length hair. She preferred her hair to be two inches past shoulder length, nothing too difficult to manage. She blow-dried her hair with a silent Laifen ionic dryer. Surprisingly, her hair was dry within seven minutes. She towel-dried her body and put on a white plush robe.
She gently knocked twice on Vivian’s door.
“Hey Vivian, are you feeling good? Do you want to eat something?”
“Hi, I slept until 1 PM. I am feeling a bit drowsy and discombobulated from the time difference. I think I have jet lag. I could eat,” Vivian’s eyes appeared groggy and malfunctioning.
“That’s cool. I can make you pasta or stir-fry udon noodles? There is leftover seaweed soup from yesterday, seaweed salad, and I’ll slice up a dragonfruit,” Ellory stepped into her sisterly mode.
“Udon in seaweed soup sounds perfect. I can’t stomach fried food right now,” Vivian contributed.
“Sure, would you like shrimp, an egg, scallions, and/or bonito flakes?” Ellory asked.
“Yes to all of it. Thank you,” Vivian followed Ellory down the hall into the glossy white kitchen. The blue tiles were the only bright pops in the space.
Ellory kept her kitchen immaculate. Her spices were labeled in alphabetical order, ready to be selected at any given point of hunger.
Vivian watched Ellory move like a swan. Ellory rinsed the raw shrimp in cold water before deveining and filleting them in half. She patted the shrimp dry with a paper towel and set them aside on a plate. She heated the saucepan of seaweed soup over medium heat on the gas stove. Then, she added one serving of frozen udon once the soup bubbled. She waited two minutes before lifting the noodles into a porcelain bowl. She added the raw shrimp to the pot and used chopsticks to place the shrimp on top of the noodles. She never overcooked shrimp. 40 seconds to 1 minute was enough to cook raw shrimp if the soup was bubbling. Ellory’s right hand cracked an egg over the stainless steel rim of the pot. The poached egg needs around 2 minutes before it is overcooked.
Ellory ladled the egg and seaweed soup over the udon. She added sliced scallion and bonito flakes on top. She set the table with a beige linen placemat, wooden chopsticks, a chopstick placeholder, and a soup spoon on top of a cloth napkin. She set out two paper napkins on the table as well. The water carafe lived on the table all the time, along with two glasses.
“Enjoy! I’ll slice the dragonfruit and mango now,” Ellory walked from the dining table to the kitchen to wash a dragonfruit and a mango.
She cut both fruits on a bamboo chopping board into identical cubes. She placed half of the mango and dragonfruit into one glass bowl and the other half into another glass bowl.
“Here is your fruit. So, how is the adjustment? I hope you’re feeling better,” Ellory stared at the chip on her left pointer fingernail as she waited for Vivian to respond.
Vivian was hungrier than she seemed. She was three bites into the udon noodle soup.
“It is nice and comfortable here. It is vastly different from my old life. I was so young and stupid. I don’t know why I thought I was in love with Julian Vélasquez. He’s a terrible person. I thought I could change him into something he’s not. He’s not a good man. He never will be,” Vivian gobbled her words with another chewy bite on her noodles.
“There is one saying we should use about Julian. Je m’en fous. It means I don’t care, in French. Zadig et Voltaire is sticking that tagline onto their recent tote bags. I laughed on the inside when I saw it in the store today. I meant to ask how you are feeling. Moving here was no easy task,” Ellory spun the topic back to her original question.
“I feel fine. I feel elated sometimes. I feel shock, misery, anger, regret, joy, and I feel good that my life is better than it was. I don’t know where I’m going or where I’m headed in life, but for the first time in several years, I feel optimistic,” Vivian delved into her emotional state.
“That’s good to hear. Do you think about going back to school?” Ellory quipped.
“I don’t think so. I want to teach pilates or dance to adults or kids. Maybe something less stressful,” Vivian pondered.
“Okay, we can work with that. I think you would enjoy studying again. You loved anthropology when you were in school,” Ellory stated.
“I forgot you have all my files and know everything about me. It is a bit embarrassing. I don’t know if I want to be in college again as a 25-year-old. I’m way behind other people. I haven’t opened a textbook in years. I think I’ll be happy living a simpler life, working in retail or at a bakery, and teaching dance as a hobby,” Vivian embraced coziness as a blanket.
“If you change your mind, let me know. Hunter is always taking in new students,” Ellory swallowed a cube of dragonfruit without chewing sufficiently.
“You’re an adept chef. I respect that. Most privileged girls and boys don’t trouble themselves with cooking. You’re different from the ones I know. Back home, the wealthy don’t lift a finger unless it’s to impress someone,” Vivian smiled as she chewed.
“Well, I always cook for myself. I grew up with absent parents, so I started preparing my meals around age eleven. My mother is a superb chef, although she rarely cooks for me. My dad doesn’t cook at all. He was more of a drinker,” Ellory let out a little laugh.
“You’re full of surprises, Ella. I like that,” Vivian’s spark was coming back to her.
Something healed the agony. It wasn’t instant. It felt like the leaves were changing colors.
Consideration and affection are the pinnacles of creating a friendship bond.