It was Monday night, nobody was home save me. I was in my pathetic attempts to shoo sleep away, with two coffee cups down. I was rendered to a state of impatience by the dwindling waters inside me. The room was pitch-dark, the lights out time was overdue. In the mean time, a faint light flickered across the street. My heart-beat in intervals, savoring deep breaths; then it would pound at once. I deserted my bed to initiate lock down- that’s what I thought. I went down. I felt like a spy who had demeanor of stealth mode. The perimeter was secure, alpha found no unwanted breach. Things were convincingly abreast. I paved my way to the entrance and with hitches in clamors, I opened the door. Duh! To my utter surprise, the street lamp was under the siege of an Asthma. As a neighbor I had deepest sympathies, so I cried out to it, “Call 911”. I didn’t actually but what was uncanny that a seven-year old (as I concluded by the fade-in-fade-out concentration), shackled by sheer blank and palpitating orange light, sat beneath it. She was dusky, I’m not discriminating but I could make out just that much. The night of greater good was here. I started walking towards her, my curiosity on steroids & some prospects unanswered on my buzzing phone but Mr. Philanthropist took my demon once, so I kept going. She was petrified by the unwanted guest I suppose. I was four paces away when she saw me, when I closed in to two she was about to tiptoe to her safe house. I sat down two paces away, crossing my legs. “It’s okay, hey? don’t be alarmed. I won’t harm.” I said lifting my hands up. She was still fretting. I didn’t mean to scare her though. Wary of my approach, I smiled to her to resume her peace. I noticed her further, she was fragile and held a tattered notebook in her hand, I even noticed a small bag protruding towards light. Her clothes were withered by over abundant use and were translucent and anytime soon transparent. She made a gesture and I stood blank, seemed like waving. I waved back-unsure. She seemed disappointed, she tried again. I realized she was talking through actions and words were trapped on the back of the tongue. She was impaired to speech and it came resounding that she was sound-oblivious as well. Our prospects went contrary and we spontaneously stood up. I made it to her, knowing that the time struck us a farewell. I in my lame gestures told her to wait while I come back from my house. She nodded. I was fast, I reached for some chocolates and in the storage I found books that’d came handy to her and to me, that time. I hurried back to her and presented both the things to her. It was strange but practically heartwarming, she refused chocolates & took the books instead and melted into the insightful dark. At the moment the asthma purged the street lamp lifeless, I laughed and went back inside.


Ubair Fayaz Fazili For Beyond Sanity Publishing


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