Sunday, January 24, 2016

in brackets

The stones were heavy. They made her feel exhausted that night. It wasn't even a bad dream.
What surprised her though was the clarity of newly found straight lines. They indicated the directions. Short sentences. Sharp thoughts. Precise steps. Following procedures. She felt as if life had evaporated from her chest in that 30 minutes conversation at night. Her left shoulder was turning into a stone and she was amazed to see the strength in the rest of her body that prevented her from collapsing and crushing against the floor.
She felt as if something precious died in her that night.
She was sitting alone.
She wanted to cry.
She did for a moment.

She felt jealous of all those who could play in the open fields.
The bonded labourer. Just a few more stones in the basket above her head.
They felt so heavy that she had even forgotten to dream about the blue ball that a spoilt child threw out of a shiny red car many nights back.

Just a few words written in brackets in between the rambling stories that one will never really read.