I.

I'm in the middle of a day full of rejected job applications, all alone. Can't believe I have classes and more places to go for interviews.

I sigh and blurt out, "I need coffee."

As I walk towards the nearest cafe with heaviness in my heart, I feel footsteps following me. I don't pay much heed. I sit inside the cafe and order my usual hazelnut latte.

It catches me off guard when my coffee arrives with a chit, 'Middle shelf, 7th book' written in it. I look around but nothing seems suspicious. 

I reach the reading corner and take out the seventh book from the middle shelf. I start flipping through it but find nothing until I reach the last page.

It's another chit but longer and the handwriting seems familiar somehow. It reads, 

    "You are made of miracles

    And wonders,

    There's magic within you.

    You are light 

    And sparks.

    There's love within you.

    It's okay to be tired,

    It's okay to take breaks.

    But there's still persistence within you.

    From your efforts idyllic flowers will bloom.

    And I'll be your loudest clapper in the room.

    -Your biggest fan, H.O.R"

"Ba-", I gasp and look around. I see him, standing there with yellow roses. 

 "BABA!" I scream and jump into his arms.

The forever-familiar warmth wraps around me that I've missed for the last 2 years. The heaviness in my heart dissolves in a jiffy.

I wipe my tears and read his nameplate 

"Colonel Harun Or Rashid".
 

by Sara Rashid 

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‘Candle’: Sehri Tales selections, Day 2

II.

Spring showers in the middle of the day;

high steps divide two roads

a boy perches on top

eyes seek out

crevices

between bones

and metal.

by Raian Abedin 

III.

There lies a river in my heart. Blood flows through from my brain asking me to leave him, while my heart goes on begging me to stay. I stand in the middle, in between a lifetime of longing and a life of regret. Do I pick myself? Do I wait? Will he come back? Will I stay in the middle forever? I wait, eons after eons, in the middle, not being able to choose. Hoping one day, I would suddenly be able to reach one side. And the aching in my chest would end. And I won't be standing in the middle of a hanging bridge, wishing my scarred soul would heal. For the middle is the place where lovelorn people stay. People that want their love to win wars, to form religions, to be a wildfire. But people that can't keep their love. People that need to leave the prison their heartbeats cover, people that can't reach the other side of the river. For there's always someone holding them back to the middle. For the middle is the only place where you don't need to engulf yourself in wrath of your own love. For the middle is the one place where your heart can hurt for someone and still be at peace. For the middle is where you're stuck, when your love leaves.

by Anini Shamayeeta