There was Angeline and Jeannie at the back of the classroom. Those two were never meant to be sitting beside each other. By miracle of assigned random seating order, those two were sitting beside each other at the back of the classroom. Usually, Angeline would be in the front, two seats to the right of centre. Jeannie would have been second or third row from the back, or standing next to the door if she was caught talking or late.
Selima, my friend, woke up with a start on a cold, clammy wet morning, full of possibilities, possibilities! The sky was clouded over, and her brain, woken up with a start by her heart-stopping alarm clock so that her blood felt drained and tingly, thought it was still the previous day. All days, these days, are the same now, in their dullness, and we can forgive her (at least once in a while) if she forgets. See, today was very, very special. Selima turned a year older today. Yes, it’s just a number after all, but what wonderful, wonderful effects that raised digit can have on a person’s life! Selima might have felt it….no, it looks like she forgot. Continue reading
I don’t get to see Calen so much but, when I do, it’s always painful. We went out for a time once, when we were both young and stupid and no one really loved anybody and no one ever fell in love for real, but they were good times. Now, we just see each other growing up and slowly become adults. Where images don’t suffice, we call each other, eat fries together, and chat about stuff. But I started to like him some years ago in the hot summer nights we spent drinking with friends on the beach because he had grown. Continue reading
Sarah always ate with a tempting *smack!*smack!* sound that she makes with her mouth. The delicious sound of food being savoured with air could fill a room with delight, the way she ate. So, when I was finally alone with her in the stairwells at school, only when everyone else of significance had already departed, I fed her some chocolate, just to hear that delectable sound.
The sound of her knitting needles were the only sound on a long, dark winter’s day. She was knitting something for me, again, I think.
I, too, wanted to learn how to knit. It seemed so easy whenever Lelena did it. Her fingers would gently touch the yarn to the tips of the needles, and then again, and again, until the row was done, and she would flip the entire thing over and repeat.
“It’s very easy,” she always said to me. “I’ll teach you,” but she never did.