For months on end he did not shave.
A cracked bathroom mirror would glare under fog,
Chalk-white walls clouding over:
Perceptive, he would think,
Tonight, the city prepares to celebrate; for the celebration of a holiday can never be spontaneous. Anticipation buzzes beneath the surface for weeks, under absent-mindedness at the workplace and mental shopping lists. Finally, it morphs into a tangible ribbon of heightened elation on a night when differences are put aside, and many hearts gather together with the conscious decision to be happy- for one night. Continue reading “Fireworks.”
The street outside is buzzing with the excited energy of school children as dusk begins to set in. A sea of generic patterns floods his vision as the uniform-clad teenagers rush directly in his direction, and then hurry past him to the thriving bakery just a door to his left. Bowing his head and pushing his foot on the pedal of his sewing machine, he smiles. This is one of his favourite sights, every weekday. Children.
The pungent stench of alcohol had not left the room for a week, but the sole inhabitant of the house paid it no heed. Amid the glass shards on the floor and the wild splashes of paint on the walls, it was hard to spot the figure, but he was there, right in the middle.
“Oh, not that high”, I snap at the young nurse who is supposed to assist me. The timid girl immediately apologises and twists the lever a bit to the other side, and after some more grouching, I decide my bed has been elevated to my optimum angle. I shoo her out of the room in annoyance and feel around for the glass of water the incompetent girl claimed to have left on the tabletop. I take a sip and listen to the news on the television. Continue reading “A Good Day”
I feel my arms shiver weakly, and my knees tremble in sympathy. The bathroom tile is smooth, cold and hard beneath me, and I crawl pathetically across it as another cough wracks my body. My vision blurs from the sudden onslaught of more tears, as well as the blinding white light from the bulb to my left. My chest screams for relief as I wheeze and hurl into the toilet bowl, and the loudest sound I hear is Continue reading “Illness”
My gaze drifts absently to the bright blue balloon drifting up, up, up into the sky, swirling and twirling, dancing unabashedly with the wind. Just a few moments ago it had been held tightly in the hands of a pretty little girl in an equally pretty yellow dress. Her head had tilted slightly to the side as she took me in, big eyes full of curiosity and a hint of suspicion, and two fingers in her mouth. My smile had held as much amiability as I could muster, only for it to flatten into a grimace as her father came into my line of vision, following the girl’s gaze and looking straight through me, as was to be expected. Adults rarely