I bear a wound, a long inflicted one. All these while I’m trying to suppress the pain. Time heals they say, but I’m afraid it penetrated so deep into my emotional flesh that I can’t help to wonder if it is ever mendable. I was naive, and awfully frail. There was no turning back to begin with. I fell completely for her, genuinely. Everything else faded, she was the only glow. I was merely building sandcastles, taking pleasure in the transient beauty. How I wished the waves never came, but they did. My soul was wailing in the realm of melancholy. Now that I’m out of the realm, the throbbing scars remain with me. Would you treat this lacerated soul of mine?
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As I reminisce, I share my woe in words. My left hand, assiduously imprinting them on the torn paper with the pen. I’m sure she is bright enough to recognise the paper or the handwriting. I fold it and deliver it to the librarian. “Do you mind giving this to Ms. Tuesday?”, I ask for a favour. “That wouldn’t be a problem”, she replies with a smile.
