fourteeenYears.2
July 30th, 2003 byRe-wind
The card had lain hidden below the old radio for months, years now. Age had turned the edges brown, the blue ink a memory on the card itself. No one knew the card even existed, except for her. Thus it lay, dust covered, a patient tablet in the desert of a house.
Misfortune its other name, death its calling card, the address now lay in front of her on the study desk. She had brought it out after fajr, having finally conceded to what she knew to be the truth. She held the card with care and blew at the dust. It took off lazily, confirming her intentions at their departure, the dust seemed to almost shrug its shoulders before becoming the wind invisible.
To not write now would be dishonest to her own soul and she had learnt long ago the consequences of such lies misunderstandings.
After all, it had been but fourteenYears- yet some lessons never seem to end.