The place had no soul or spirit left, and it was evident in the colourless walls, the unclean glasses, the empty eyes of the server who left me a menu card.
I’d never felt sadder at the prospect of not being a part of someone else’s story.
The infallible whiteness of the walls, the omnipresent smell of disinfectants, and the fields of artificial grass come back to me. Swimming before me are visions of smiling children and the legions of overworked childcare professionals constantly at their service. Every blink threatens to permanently relocate me to their world of ceaseless laughter.
It’s God’s funny way of reminding me that all that is received is a gift that is broken.
“Hey.” “Hi,” says Amreen, turning to look at me over her shoulder and then back to face the street again. In a plain white fotua and jeans, she cuts a stark figure against the stainless steel railings of the balcony on which she is leaning.
They say my new friend isn’t really my friend. I don’t believe them. My friend has been a better friend to me than anyone else has even managed.
On the night of my wedding I break the ice with my newly wedded husband by telling him about the first man I loved.
The world seemed to be moving at its own pace, hectic and chaotic, just like any other day. But it didn’t sound the same.
…And when the surface tension could bear no more, the fluid slowly broke off – drip...drip…drip. The recurring sound of liquid dripping in the distance was the first to register into my mind which, accompanied by the stench of iron that assailed my nostrils, sent my brain into overdrive – blood.
There’s a point in space where two lines meet, An angle, a corner, a bedazzling cosmic feat.
