I reset my mind to a blank like clockwork. There’s nothing I savor more than these fading seconds.
The frosty breeze disperses repeats from my wind chimes lulling me to sleep, and I can almost smell the comforting smell of coffee stirred with something I can’t describe.
I feel whole.
I wake up early and face the unbearable darkness of being alone in bed. Not the first time, but it always hurts. The book on my bedside table begs me to read it. I choose a page at random and give up after a few lines.
My head isn’t there.
Life is full of paradoxes. You want someone to see all of you, but when they do, you’re scared. More so, if they stay. Setting boundaries is critical. Around fragile hearts, each other, and your memories.
If you don’t remember, you can’t feel. If you don’t feel, you won’t expect.
She left again this morning. I’m not sure what to make of it. Inconsistence or purposefully ephemeral?
What I like most about her is that she makes me think. Her actions. They are never innocent.
I open the window and sit on the balcony for a while.
It’s cold outside.
If I close my eyes, I can see one vivid memory — the day I stopped seeking. We aren’t born to progressively hurt ourselves with the illusion of more, while falsely comforting ourselves with what we already have.
I capsized it. Every crude emotion has its outlet and that is pristine perfection.
A little girl’s playing in the park downstairs. She’s drawing circles in the snow.
Hypnotic repetitions. Transient sensations.
Someone calls her. She grabs the book she had left on a bench and runs away.
Snow starts falling thick and fast, covering her symbols with a fluffy layer.
I love winter.
Darkness thrums my senses awake. I wind up work without glancing at the clock. I’ve been looking forward to tonight.
I pity those who get thrown off by little things — guess they missed the memo. If you want things to go your way, finish what others aren’t willing to do.
A woman calls for a job at 5:01 pm. Something about a lost ring that is the key to deciphering some code in a book. I barely pay attention. Why did I pick up?! It’s one minute too late, and I have my rules.
“I’m not interested.”
I hang up.
Friday nights are reserved for decompressing. Flashing lights, numbing music, and bodies seeking bliss.
But tonight, my well-deserved hit remained out of reach. I knew it the moment I walked through the sliding doors.
This entire week has been itchy. Like I’m forgetting something I desperately don’t want to remember.
Weird thing happened at the club tonight. A girl said my name was Gnir. “We’ve met before. I swear!! You were dating my best friend. Chicago. Five years ago.”
Never been there, never seen her.
She wouldn’t let go.
I left early.
It’s barely midnight, but I go to bed.
I wake up from my recurring 4 a.m. hallucination. I’m underwater, my screams are muffled, and imperceptible strings pull at my feet. That’s when I see it — a hint of her, a dream within a dream.
Pushing lingering aches aside, I rush to catch an early shift at the ring.
Of course, they try to kill me again. It’s what they do. I’m not in the mood, but Master Khassa would tell me to be grateful for the free karate training.
Small guy shouldn’t be there.
Tall guy is bleeding, but he’s still alive. I’ll take care of him later.
You can’t be afraid of falling if you’re already residing in minimum. And that’s my comfort zone. I spent years seeking meaning before realizing it was a loop. One designed to confuse. Straighten it out and reality ceases to faze and surprise.
Except the one thing I can’t figure out.
There’s this girl I’ve been watching at the coffee shop downstairs. She never looks at her phone. I’m not even sure she has one. No laptop. No electronics.
Only a book.
The book.
It’s always the same hardback, and she reads the same page every day she comes.
Page 137.
Author’s Notes:
I co-wrote this story with
in increments of 50 words on Notes.Fun fact, this is our tenth collaborative tale, and to commemorate the milestone, we wrote it backward. In memory of our first story which was created the same way. So the closing lines were composed first.
And so on.
Apart from being much more fun than I expected, the process also added a mind-bending quality to the story. Placing us in the character’s shoes.
I had an out-of-body experience while developing my bits. This is the farthest I’ve been from ‘me’ while writing, yet concurrently got to explore themes that reside deep within. It got me thinking, without constraints.
Given the opportunity or power, I’d limit my reality to the bare minimum. Protect myself, mitigate surprises, predict one moment from the next.
But it wouldn’t be enough. Parts of me will never stop seeking more.
I can’t believe I cowrote this!! It’s amazing 🤩 . I would never be able to write such a story alone
My favorite line in this story (yes, I have many) is - She’s drawing circles in the snow.
I saw that scene so clearly, I felt cold. Really.