Sadness, etc.

Sadness, etc.

1. With eyes closed, I could imagine the train gets smaller by each passing second. The midnight air creeps into my entirety—from my jacket through the very skin that covers me. I pick up my bag, which has curiously gone heavier that it really is, and head for the road to take the bus. Why do I always miss the last train?

2. I don’t know, I said to the lady asking for directions. Her lips curve in disappointment before she turns her back on me, only to walk in silence. The blind can’t lead the blind. I continue walking in the opposite way, hoping to never see her again. She is just as lost as I am and I wish she won’t look back.

3. As I listen to his funny stories about his dog, boring job, and some other things which don’t concern nor impress me the least, his voice fades slowly in the background, and I know I’m no longer listening. I smile frequently to show interest—lost in my own contemplation—while I stare at his hair, which is a beautiful mess. I laughed at the thought, loudly. He was already talking about the death of his mom.

4. A blank sheet of paper screams for attention. I hold my gaze at the first line but couldn’t seem to write anything. Such emptiness! I crumpled the paper into a ball, aimed at the rubbish bin in the corner and threw; and missed. Such a waste!

5. “How can we fix this?” I beg. “Can we fix this? I can change.” The person on the other line fell silent for a moment, perhaps thinking of what to say next. “I can change.” I repeated, now with emphasis. “Yes, you can.” said the other voice. “And you did.” The line clicked off and I listened to the static for the next five minutes.

6. He was holding her trembling hands while he looked into her eyes wet with tears. The machine beside them continues to beep in no rhythm, until after a few minutes, it concludes to a steady monotone. She was no longer shaking; her eyes already closed. Boys don’t cry, he convinced himself. But boats don’t fly either.