The girl was in loose shirt and faded shorts; her fingertips smelled of dye; her hair storm-tossed. She woke up thrice that day: when her phone rang, when her Mother went to her room to say goodbye, and when, finally, she felt too weak to sleep.

The girl wanted to make a coffee. Or hot tea. Or anything any 21-year old is supposed to have in the morning. Instead, she grabbed a pack of instant noodles and made one for herself. She was cold. A different type of ‘coldness’ this time, she thought to herself.

The girl moved by the window and watched the sky throw huge drops of rain, as if unloading tears. Then a bit later, the sun appeared from behind the clouds. It was a crystal-clear morning once again.

The weather, like her, was undecided.

Recurring memories still haunt her. Sometimes in sleep. Sometimes in the middle of the night. Sometimes when she thought she had forgotten.

She had not, she assured herself.

She was in loose shirt and faded shorts; her eyes smelled of pretense; her whole body, a heartbreak. Amidst her cold noodles and an indecisive weather, the girl decided to postpone her life.

No, not yet, the girl sang.


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