The Battle
All I can hear is the monotonous sound of the fan blades running after each other, almost like a race which no one can win. Now and then this continuous hum is interrupted by the sound of my fingers tapping on the key board…. The little bit of noise that is left in the room would soon be swept away. And everything will be still. Will it return tomorrow? I ask my self, what is sound?
The white walls, the white computer screens, the white ceiling have won the battle over all the colours around me. My eyes could only see white. Everywhere. White. And then I stop to think, isn’t white a colour?…or is it?
I get carried away, with a gentle draft that brushes against my skin. I wonder if it’s the fan that’s creating it. Or is it the frills of her skirt as she spins in front of me. But there’s no laughter… her voice is lost in an echo. “Kiri kiri bollei….”. I wonder if my eyes were wrong to see her smile that day. Was she really smiling…?
Day 2. 4.49pm
Today she won her battle, and we lost ours! I feel guilty. I feel responsible. I wish the tears that are running down my cheeks had come long before. I wish my eyes saw a lot more than what they were supposed to see…. I feel trapped, helpless…and that feeling leaves me cold. As if I’m lying next to her cold body, looking up at a white ceiling and listening to the fans turn.
I prayed, wished for miracles…. But I have been let down. Should I loose faith in all of them?
