Festive Season Blues
The backwater that was Yiwu shook with the frenzy of factories churning out endless glittering baubles. Wei scurried past LED workshops, wraiths tinkering with soldering irons in pulsing light.
He was late, caught up writing a letter to his fiancé. Responding to her assurances that a smaller wedding was what she wanted, her pleas insulting his sacrifice.
The letter departed, his crimson fingerprints staining tear soaked paper.
The boss man tapped a manicured nail onto a watch that a thousand life times could barely afford. Wei bowed apologetically before grabbing a paper mask and the glue sprayer.
Five thousand polystyrene stars awaited on metal shelving.
Wei grabbed a star, spraying it with glue, before dipping it deep into the crimson glitter held within a battered oil-drum.
Lifting out a scarlet jewel, sparkling in the light of the bare bulb.
Grab, spray, dip.
Another mask, fingers stained crimson. Lungs hacking with shimmering dust.
Whatever Christmas was, Wei truly despised it.