BYFA

1

Sun peeked again, theoretically a “new day” as everyone refers to. Last day, with the sun, by the horizon, slipping down all the moments. Moments I cannot ever go back to, moments I cannot touch again.

2

Clouds to some are a fluffy cotton ball above, but what if they have a heart on their own? They wake up with me, while the sun spreads a bright brilliant yellow smile that blinds me, a smile that peeks through my blinders to wake me up. They start their day chasing me as I watch them sitting on the bus right next to the window. I make sure to look at them even when I’m inside the school to make sure they don’t start to cry. While everybody circles their final answers in algebra, I draw a cloud around my answer, they look much prettier, the clouds feel happy too.

3

The homes stand in line, their heights matching each other's. The homes slumped against each other, some covered in fresh paint, while one is barely alive. Some of them are identical with their burnt brown paint, and surrounded by trees, aligned with a busy road. They all face the sun, a trail of sunshine manages to slip through their squared white-framed windows, blinding my eyes. Perhaps, despite all the parallels among the homes, they all hold a variety of packets of souls; one fresh out of heaven, one so broken, one so in love, one like a dove.

4

Once I was the one who wished to pet a dove across the world when I lived on the toppest floor of a bricked building; a building that had nobody to slump against, nobody to stand hand-in-hand. Their height did not match; lights couldn’t blind my eyes; my eyes were blinded with the game of money, and social classes.

 5

I sit on the chair straightening my back, the laptop open wide in front of me, screen as bright as it could get.

Maheen: Good morning!

Me: I thought you would sleep.

Maheen: I can stay up late, I don’t have school tomorrow.

Me: Did you have dinner? I’m going to get my breakfast.

Maheen: Yeah I did. Hey, do you want to do a makeup look? I saw a new eyeliner look on Pinterest.

Me: Sure! What should the color be? Or outfit? How does orange sound?

Maheen: How about we pick a theme! Three pieces?

Me: Yes, we can do that, let’s pick a color too.

Maheen: Green, it’s rare. Maybe we can pair it with a jean jacket!

Me: I don’t know how it will look though. Ok, let’s just try, let me eat quick.

6

The screen between us does not exist. Although our hands don’t brush against each other’s, our minds definitely do; we can laugh until our stomach crumbles despite 8,214 miles between us.

7

Reflection: I am one of those reflections reflected. All the cars merge and march, swoosh after swoosh, leaving hope in the air. Perhaps, I am a swoosh of air in someone’s life. I am a stranger that swooshes by, my dreams swoosh by their sight and they start to chase too: their dreams. And all those dreams swoosh by the world, lighting it up, making the silent world so meaningful.  

8

Perhaps, moments are saved in a page of the brain, formed as a scar, printed on a page, captured in a gallery. New days label those pieces of life as memories. I did, I was, I had, I wish I could go back.

9

I am a second older from a second ago, steps closer to death, one breath away from the future.

10

“New day” will leave too, carving out memories in my mind. My flight time was chasing, even if I blinked my eyes I couldn’t stop the time, the air of Cox’s Bazaar swooshed by me. I could grip the sand, and inhale the moment, stay a little longer to watch the wave hit the shore and reach the tip of my anklet. But I had to let it go.

11

As time rolled, the clouds got tired, just like I did. They too went to sleep, but made sure to light a lamp for me on the way. The white mixed with a bit of yellow; the silky blaze peeked through my blinders as I peacefully snored. I know the clouds would greet me again in the morning. They refuse to leave me for a moment, even when I cross the Atlantic Ocean and enter a new world.