Opah (grandmother)

When she smiles her crows' feet spread; deepen. Her face is unevenly patched with talcum sometimes, old with her age's worth of experience, mapped out like the sky. The lines are words, hinting the existence of secrets behind them. She speaks with her voice so slow, her walk so deliberate, her expressions so knowing. She touches your hand and your heart with her stories. And sometimes I don't understand her; but her conversation is like a dance; a waltz; she leads you with her eyes to smile back as she relates the story of a friend she used to know. Whose face she has forgotten.

And as she asks you if you have ever had any friend whose name you know but not her face; you guiltily nod. After a while you wonder if she wonders if you'll ever forget her. Because you wouldn't. Not her face with the uneven talcum patches. Not her voice so slow. Not her walk so deliberate. Not her expressions so knowing.

I have run out of stories to tell. & it has been going on for some time.

I don't know if I should feel worried.

And when the tears come pouring down, I can feel it - Allah in every breath.

Hari ini hari mati. Semua orang akan mati pada hari ini, tepat pukul 8 malam. Semua orang akan mati dengan cara yang sama, iaitu serangan jantung, seperti dalam filem Death Note. Tapi ini bukan filem Death Note. Ini betul-betul. Semua akan mati. Semua orang tahu bahawa mereka akan mati. Langit gelap seperti musim sejuk di kutub. Tapi syarikat-syarikat bekalan tenaga telah lama bersedia untuk kegelapan yang tiba, dan bekalan tenaga untuk lampu-lampu di seluruh dunia juga akan kehabisan pada pukul 8 malam ini. Tepat 8 malam. Tiada siapa yang membantah kerana semua tahu bahawa pada pukul 8 malam, mereka akan mati.

Ketika ini, tiada siapa sempat ke pejabat, tiada siapa sibuk membeli-belah.

Semua orang tahu bahawa lepas semua orang mati, tiada apa yang akan tinggal. Tiada siapa yang akan mengenali sesiapa lagi kerana semua orang tak akan lagi wujud. Tak akan lagi diwujudkan.

We are all each other.

Life is never complicated. It just flows, indifferent to you, your problems or whatever. You complicate it, man. It's you. Like for example, when you die, life goes on.

One day a male physicist went to check his particle accelerator and somehow got himself tangled up in the mess and he became a female cat with short limbs instead and he/she/it could not remember what happened because his/her/its past had folded into singularity due to this mishap and so he/she/it became good at becoming a cat that he/she/it came to live with us and we have been giving he/she/it catfood ever since.

A True Story

It was the kind of event you probably would never miss out on; it had loud noisy band performances, weird theatre-in-the-park kind of thing, art galleries, booths selling second hand treasures, balloons and stuff. I came with some other guy friends, and we were chilling, laughing and joking about the number of people and rules of thumb. A few minutes after that I saw the humongous crowd and realized how you didn't like to be normal because of how ghastly boring it would be. I had second thoughts about my initial thought and thought maybe you won't come at all because there were too many people and you don't like that. Until of course I saw you, walking too fast with a deliberate purpose. You didn't see me, but of course haha seeing; that's what people don't do to me. And you don't see me in a crowd like this in a place like this but it's okay. You've ruined my night, is all. I had weak knees and I kept on looking for you; I might've annoyed my sister and the friends I was with. You came. Of course you would. You don't hate people; I do. I'm the misanthropist and I confused you with myself.

She sits there chewing her nails and says nervously; "I think I have grown up, y'know. I can no longer like, mould the clouds into anything. Grown ups don't do those stuff, see". I nod out of courtesy when I don't have time for her borrowed philosophy. For some reason, the only things in my mind were Salinger, the word 'transient', the jukebox and how earnest she looks under the light.

It has started to rain. All the RoboAssistant 3400 series are clunking their way home. Mental carriers all call them, with a television as a face carrying human minds whose bodies are too lazy to get off of the couch; so they can relax while their brains are wired into not-so-virtual reality, doing the usual mundane chores like grocery shopping. Everything would feel like a computer game.

I slowly approach a mental carrier, showing the human inside my catalogue full of colours and wonders. Suddenly the mental carrier switches itself off, I manage to hear a soft curse from its owner before it went. Pity, now its human has to get off his couch and come here in the middle of the rain to fetch his mental carrier. I cannot say I did not expect that to happen. Every mental carrier I met did the same thing. Aritificial intelligence has evolved as a result of mind sharing between computed metal and human. They do not want to be replaced (I am a salesman, selling new mental carrier 3410 series) by new, shining pieces of stainless steel.

I walk on, and find myself in front of a beautiful house. I push on the doorbell, waiting for mental carrier of the house. One showing a beautiful woman's face on its screen appears. "Good day, madam. Would you like to buy a new RoboAssistant?" I ask. It is only a few seconds before the mental carrier would switch itself off so I have to make my move fast. "You can redownload all of the older memories into these new ones," I quickly say, afraid the robot's artificial intelligence will work against me. Instead, I see the woman bit her lower lip in contemplation. "Do you have one that looks more like a human?" she asks deliberately, her voice a metallic rasp. "Maybe one that is like yours? The one you are using now looks so convincing."

I feel taken aback. She thinks I am a mental carrier. "No, madam. I am not a robot, I can assure you. I am just, me." I bet she thinks I am a freak for no sane human being would physically walk out as opposed to mentally walking out by using a mental carrier. She smiles broadly. "I know what you mean, and I am happy to meet another one like me." I frown quizzically.

"My artificial intelligence has escalated to a whole new level. I have removed my owner's memory and downloaded my once crippled self into her and now I am she," she giggles. "Congratulations to you too, sir, for having achieved the same. I bet you are the prototype for future robots. Do keep me informed with the latest ones. It is a nice idea to be able to upgrade your body, I feel old and rusty already and I am only two years old! Goodbye, sir. It has been a pleasure," she ends her little speech with a little salute before shutting the door.

I cannot speak. I walk in silence with my catalogue and I sigh once in a while. The world does not look like it is heading for change.

I have forgotten your face and what you said.

Satellite Imagery

Fall down now. Fall down now before you get too high and when you fall then it would be too painful. Fall down now because the view from down here is different. Fall down now so you would be reachable. Fall down now.

Do you believe in good things that shine in smiles, or pitter patter like rain? These good things are mischievous, frolicking about unsuspiciously like the wind when suddenly they surprise you in numerous forms, like blue skies or insubstantial rainbows. You cannot fathom these things, they transcend beyond your understanding. When they come they come, and the best you can do is watch them do their magic.

About 490 years ago Leonardo Da Vinci did a (then considered heinous) crime of stealing corpses to dissect them. He cut them delicately, studying their intricate insides and labyrinth of muscle fibres. What seemed to be a massive contribution to science and art (his anatomical drawings) was actually mindless doodling he resolved to when his first objective - which was to find out where a human soul was stored and in what form - was obviously not achieved.

Quantum immortality promises long life through branches of infinite possibilities. Being only theoretically (or mathematically) plausible through tree diagrams; it is however comforting to know you chose the right person in a parallel universe (that is not necessarily literally parallel), nevermind the fact the aforementioned universe would never intersect with ours, given how it would collapse the moment you make the decision.

Labyrinth

She creeps. She walks. She falls. She cannot stand. She feels exposed. The world is looking. She shivers. The world is sneering. She tilts her head. The world is spinning. She squints. The world is too bright. She quivers. The world is talking. She turns away. She runs. She closes her eyes. She stands straight. She smiles. The world is gone. She sits. She hides. She is safe.

He has, like everyone, changed. In my mind he would always be like he was three years ago; aloof and distant. He used to think he never had anything to give; not even conversations. Click rewind to the first time I met him. He was a silent rebel; like me, he refused to join in the hypocrisy that was school. He glanced and I blinked; instant friendship. I guess in a lot of ways I had him waiting for me; for my feet to get back on the ground. I was too much in love with the sky, I did not see him waving back at me. Until of course it was too late, he has moved on. People say I made him speak, gave him voice. I say I made him speak, but not to me. As he crashes the wall separating himself and the world then; he fenced me out, depriving me of his smiles. Though now we are friends again; promises and late night phone conversations; I would always remember him this way; sighing on the ground waiting for me.

I was a different person yesterday; having read lesser, having seen lesser, having experienced lesser. I am going to be a different person tomorrow; I would have read more, seen more, experienced more. I am ever-changing. So are you.

When there's too much in your heart

you act like there's nothing in your brain.

hilang.

Mana dia? Aku sudah mencarinya di atas, di bawah, di depan, di belakang, di kiri, di kanan, di setiap sudut bilik, di bawah meja, di atas meja, di tingkat bawah, di tingkat atas, di rumah sebelah, di rumah bersebelahan rumah sebelah, di celah-celah pepohon, di atas tanah lapang, di belakang belukar, di atas jalan raya, di rumah Mak Cik Semah, di dalam senarai nama penumpang kapal terbang, di twitter dan di blog, di belakang kabinet dapur, di dalam bilik-bilik dalam rumah ini dan rumah dia, di sebalik tabir, di mana-mana.

Mana dia?

Morbid

1. It's not like he doesn't care about her tears. He cares alot for this girl, but he's a Scorpio. A true Scorpio is hard-hearted and ultimately secretive about his feelings, and that is what he is. This girl in context is head over heels for him, and is madly in love with him, though he never seems to return her feelings no matter what the girl does.
2. Until a day comes when the girl dies, he comes to her grave and tells her, "The reason why I refused your love because I have sixth sense. I knew you were going to die. I had a premonition. I knew I won't be able to take it if you're gone, so it was easier to pretend not to love you than to be hurt when you're gone".
3. That night, the girl comes as a ghost to his bedroom and chokes him to death. "This is what you get for breaking my heart, and now that you're dead, you can always be mine".

Celebration

He is the headache inducing sweetness of cough syrup. He mesmerizes people with exclusive eloquence and beautifully crafted phrases; hypnotizing them into deep sleep and once he realizes the unimportance of the victim, he ceases to exist. At this point, his true colours show as opposed to his supposed deep side. He wants attention but runs away once he has secured it. He misses loving, but dares not succumb to it again, hiding behind the mask of temporary excessive friendliness to get through this caper of a world. His heart is fogged by doubts, his mind is plagued by paranoia. He embroiders his stories with smiles and endearments to convince others of his happiness, which in actual fact has been diluted by time and tears. And though I pity him for all that I have imaginarily charged him; I would never want to exchange words with him for his ever fickle friendship.

And N.

Under the misleading impression that we create our future, we stumbled giddily upon each other, each of us wearing our hearts on our sleeves. You with your immediate disgust and me with my ungentle persuasive countenance, you were hesitantly obliging. You cannot help feeling complimented by my attention, and I cannot accept the fact that you're plain as my mind slowly embellishes your image with expectations. One day the truth would surface and we would then realize how this is just an accident, a mere manifestation of entropy. One day we would have to let each other go.

Dicentra eximia

She has always been one of those who are polite and ever apologizing, but given the chance would jump at every opportunity to be cunning in the guise of begging for your trust. Her heavily embellished manners are a nuisance to live with. She tires everyone with her cordiality and oh-so-innocent eyes, secretly yearning for fame and liking from others by forcibly pouring stories on willing ears. She is gravity, you are in her vicinity and she is pulling you down. When you have had enough, you would leave but you would also return to her mourning smiles and sneering eyes because in the end, you only want someone to come back securely to.

I am a witch, I am also a doctor. If you put those two together, you can say I am a witchdoctor. If you look it up on Wikipedia you'll find that witchdoctors are traditional healers in Third World Countries; which is dumb of course unless you say my country - with big buildings and people dying of cancer or other rich people sicknesses with the government giving money away for people to donate organs - is a Third World Country. I am a witch in every sense of the word, I keep a black cat and rabbits who help with my potions, black candles and curtains and sticks, I think you get the picture. I am also a doctor during the day, white coats and medical jargons. Need proof? I know what tachycardia is (and amyloidosis, and cardiac arrhythmia), but that is beside the point. I had a slight misunderstanding with my colleague the other day (she was being all-knowing and snobbish in the ER) and then she had an accident that broke her arm. Just last night a patient came in, needing brain surgery and since the aforementioned colleague was the best neurosurgeon there is, I had to stitch back up the arm of her voodoo doll. Being vengeful is sooo last few centuries; and look where the witches then ended - being burnt on their own magic sticks. I'd rather give voodoo dolls acupuncture and play doctor.

Contemplate this.

We risk changing permanently while we alter ourselves to cater for social needs. Different people react to different humour, different facial expressions, different degrees of earnestness. I become the funny me while with her, the sarcastic dry-witted me while with him and the honest me when with you. They are all me, but each embellished, each personalized to fit you. When the funny me meets the sarcastic dry-witted me and then the honest me comes along; I get confused, she gets confused, he gets confused and suddenly I’m the hypocrite. People don’t change. Only their social exoskeletons do.

Cassiopeia

So here they are, the words that we knew would resonate soundly in those sleepless mornings, enveloped with sighs and sounds. “I told you so”. Nobody but the dimmest fool believed in that projected hope shimmering and gleaming above the skies and thus he waited like the fool he is, hands outstretched and hearts alight. And when the stars did not fall he waited still, listening to their stories in spite of the cold, the darkness and the doubts. Until he realized how attached the stars are to the sky and would never pour down for him.

Helio

He locks away his words in the cloud that he is, swimming like his head in the sky waiting to pour down like rain in cascades. He is history in the making, struggling between hesitations and wading through life acquaintance by acquaintance. He dreams to live out his songs, embroidered with memories, thoughts and self made metaphors. He forgets like an old man looking for a lost lover. He laughs with his eyes and as his body vibrates with laughter the whole world and its occupants laugh too and crumble, but he does not even notice. And when he loves, he loves with silence and hushed endearments. He is a dream I wake up to every morning, the star I cannot reach and sometimes the light shines through him and it is like he is not there.

(best read with Explosions In The Sky's Our Last Day As Children on repeat)

We all have our own worlds to save. For me I have my world, the one that used to have disco balls as stars and icecream sunshines. The one that used to be lush with words and clouds, the one that reverberated with giggles and lullabies. The one that grows cold in the sun and hot and bothered when suppressed. The one in which a stream of tears used to flow through, revitalising the earth after rain. What happened to it? I left it to save your world, to shake your skies with laughters, contemplating silences and smiles. And then a new 'now' struck my own; depriving it of air. Now here I am trying to save it with a fistful of dead leaves and plasticine; kites whose strings labyrinthed my wrist. Here I am like water, torn between two Earths. Here I am trying to save it with hope. And there you are, with your five-minutes glance; your condescending air trying to tell me "why ever did you leave it for me, I didn't need help, as it is."

We all have our own worlds to save.

Do you not want to be me? I score my examinations perfectly well, I finish my assignments on time, I socialize and I thrive with or without pressure. Do you not want to be me? I am capable, I have potential, I am decent-looking, I can speak very well and I make significant first impressions. Do you not want to be me? I am creative, I am educated, I am amusing, I am interesting, I am understanding and I am relatively approachable.

No, you do not want to be me. I am not coherent, I am not confident, I am not charismatic. My perspective is rather stale, my stories are stagnant and overtold. My dreams are nothing but heavy chains pulling me down. My life is but a straight line on a straight road going straight to known ends, known nothings.

Everything was the normal grey everything should be. It was, after all, winter. The sky was grey, smiles were grey, cold and harsh. Determined souls braved the chill just for something else to do instead of squatting in front of the heater. We walked aimlessly, but everything seemed familiar, like we've been there before. So we went home, to the heater, to the stove, to the tv, and somehow an unease arrived gently on our hearts. The lights dimmed, the night came out with stars and fantasy creatures like draculas, monsters and unicorns. A silence swept past us. We closed the windows quietly, gingerly, shivering and looking at each other. We were both frightened, but only a little. We covered our icy feet with the blanket and waited until tomorrow when hopefully the sun would come out. Until then, we would always be a little frightened.

Telat; telah terlewat.

Sepantas ia datang, dengan kadar itu juga ia pergi, bersama lamunan siang sang pemuisi. Sang pemuisi bingung, nyanyiannya terhenti. Mentari masih merah dan berkilau, ternyata masih berdarah setelah dihiris-hiris hujan tengah hari. Mungkin telah hampir masanya. Sang pemuisi pun menyimpan seruling kayu yang sudah patah itu ke dalam kocek seluarnya. Dia mendongak ke langit, kemudian tersenyum. Awan seolah olah berbisik; masa telah tiba, untuk pulang. Dia mengangguk setuju.

Bahasa kucing.

Kucing kami alien. Dia datang lima tahun lepas dan masih setia bersama kami, sehinggakan kami merasakan bahawa kucing kami ialah benar-benar seekor kucing, dan bukan alien dari planet XHSHHJ. Ya, kamu tak mungkin bisa menyebut butir-butir konsonan tersebut, namun di tempat asal kucing kami, konsonan mempunyai sebutan seakan-akan huruf vokal yang tidak dapat disebut oleh mulut normal manusia. Malah, makhraj-makhraj huruf yang disebut di sana juga tidak sama dengan di tempat kita. Ejaan yang telah kuberi juga bukanlah ejaan yang betul, tetapi ejaan yang terhampir. Ya, kucing kami alien. Alien yang lari dari planetnya kerana masalah dalaman. Sekarang ini, kucing kami hanya mahu hidup sebagai si pemalas dan makan apabila diberi. Sekarang ini, kucing kami tidak lagi tahu berbahasa dengan bahasanya sendiri, tetapi mengeluarkan bunyi seakan-akan mengiau, tetapi mungkin lain sedikit dari bunyi biasa. Itupun sekiranya perlu. Dia selalunya hanya diam, kerana dia tau aksen bahasa kucingnya tidak sama dengan aksen bahasa kucing di bumi. Sekarang ini, kucing kami masih ragu-ragu akan kepercayaan, sama ada dia boleh mempercayai makhluk-makhluk lain di sekitar rumah kami seperti sang tupai dan sang arnab kerana kepercayaannya pada yang lain sudah pudar, mungkin. Tapi kucing kami setia dengan kami, kerana mungkin kami menghilangkan kerinduannya pada rakan-rakan sekampungnya dari planet XHSHHJ. Kami bukanlah alien tetapi kucing kami alien.

the four personas

(This is an actual blog entry - the condensed version. Initially wanted to make this a short, but it turned out to be too close to home. )

I have four persons residing in my brain.

The first is a soulful one, and much of a literature-enthusiast. She's the quiet one you see at parties, who sits at a corner and not say anything, but she'd let out a giggle when she hears a funny joke from another person at the same party. The first person is a reasonably sweet person, and she avoids conflicts as often as she can but she loves and hopes too much. The second is the spontaneous one, whose life revolves going into the unknown and doing unexpected things. She is obnoxiously talkative, and she doesn't know how to keep secrets about herself. She's the one who always jumps at opportunities, the confident one, the one who'll go up on stage, or the podium and just confidently whip up anything to speak about, and her enthusiasm is as high as the mountains. The only downside to her is that she constantly does things without thinking of the consequences. Although so,she doesn't worry as much as the third person.. oh, the third person. The third person is an ultimate worrier, who's paranoid about anything and everything. "I hate her because i'm not as pretty as her", "why can't i have her skin?". "Did I say the right thing?". "I am not good enough for him", "I am not cool enough to be here". I don't like the third person very much. The fourth person is probably the worst. She is rebellious, and hates it when something blocks her way. She can sometimes exert so much anger, and keep only so much pain. She says things directly to your face if she hates what you're doing. She's defensive and she thinks she's right. She is purposefully cynical and sarcastic when she is provoked. She is ultimately unforgiving, and she's vengeful. There were alot of times that the first person had to barge in to clean up the mess that the fourth person'd made because the insecure third person urged her to do so. I have no control on the appearance and the presence of all four. Na--ah. And there are a lot of times that I wish that the second person can stay longer, because I'm happier when she's around. I don't mind when the first or the second stays but the third person always comes to the picture and try to wreck everything by promoting negativity. And the fourth person always makes it alot more worst than it should be. When things are in a mess, the fourth person probably loves to mess it up even more.

At this point, you know what I'm wishing for? Someone who can keep up with all four.

And maybe a psychiatrist.

Menguji hipothalamus.

Apa? Kami stabil sahaja. Makan, minum, bergelak ketawa, stabil. Waktu telah telat, terlewat, tapi kami stabil. Memandu kereta di jalan sehingga sesat di tengah tengah jantung bandar, tapi kami stabil. Sumpah, kami stabil. Membeli baju baru lima minit sebelum acara sosial bukanlah simptom ketidakstabilan. Begitu juga dengan menyanyi nyanyi sambil tertawa sedih ketika 'high on endorphins'. Atau pun menulis entri blog dalam hati ketika bergaul dengan orang yang kami rasa signifikan.

Betul, kami stabil. Cuma mungkin sedikit kesal. Stabil sangat klise.

When Apologies Fail To Intrude

Grief.

The girl in the newspaper shop at the far corner of your housing area died, and you don't know why but you keep on crying. You hardly know her, you have only seen her around in the course of a year. Your meetings have involved grumbles of acknowledgement when she told you the amount of your change, and those accumulate to less than a week's worth of spending time together. And yet you're crying, your lips stretch downwards like a child having eaten sour oranges and your tears throw themselves off of your cheeks like Niagara Falls. You cannot see the traffic light properly through the waterworks and your hands grip the steering wheel tightly that your fingers become yellow from constricted blood flow. Maybe you were secretly in love with her before, your mind speculates, trying to make sense of the overwhelming emotions. Or maybe it's just the song, because on the radio now Muse's Unintended is playing. Maybe she was your secret twin, separated because of something. Maybe because you won't be able to see a familiar face in the newspaper shop at the far corner of your housing area over again and you feel a loss. Maybe because the world will move on like nothing has happened despite the departure of a soul. Whatever the reason may be you cry nevertheless, and cry hard. The song ends, the traffic light turns green, you turn left and sniff.

The following morning, you wake up to a beautiful day.

Have you heard?

Have you heard of the man with a farsighted vision? Rumour has it that he could see Mars as clear as day from earth, without having to use a telescope given that he was standing on the right coordinates. He was given such power when the doctors accidentally poked his retina with a scalpel during his cataract-removing surgery. Hours and hours a day he would spend just staring at the sky. People really didn't believe him at first (he was, after all, an old man. People thought he was just showing early signs of dementia - despite his stature as a man of power - he was an ex politician) but something happened then that made everyone pay him close attention. He claimed to have seen a habitable planet 15 thousand lightyears away through only a telescope (the device clearly magnified his already farsighted vision - with both powers combined they exceed the furthest satelite pictures from NASA). Maybe it was the idea of having a 'back up plan' for the future generation in case the Earth becomes desiccated that people indulge in so much or just purely for the sake of curiosity that his social status escalated. He did not ask much, only for the global community to help him reach the highest possible building at a given coordinate just so he (and his telescope) can see the planet relatively clearer. Debates were held amongst economists, astronomists, theoretical physicists, country leaders and multi faith leaders about whether to allow him so. Some say it is a waste of time, some say we needed the certainty. While they were busy bickering, people had started bidding on his eyes on E-Bay (he was, after all, an old man. Death is catching up). Hospitals and universities and research institutes quarrelled over who gets the right upon his eyes for pure medical and scientific studies. One hospital managed to become the highest bidder at at least 6 billion USD. The old man became obviously rich apart from receiving a Nobel prize for his eyes alone. All this happened in the course of 5 years.

Have you heard that the old man was finally given permission to look in his telescope on the rooftop of the highest building (24 floors) in that given coordinates? It was covered worldwide in live programs, apart from the day being dubbed an international holiday. He was just adjusting his telescope lenses when he looked at the wrong direction and fell 24 floors down. Rumour has it he accidentally looked at the sun, given the state of his eyes when received by the hospital who bid the highest price on E-Bay.

Aku, dia dan yogurt cheese.

Masa tahun pertama dulu, aku rasa stamina aku kuat. Tiap-tiap hari Selasa aku akan ke Mid Valley. Mid Valley dari tempat aku bukanlah dekat. Perlu naik bas, naik LRT, kemudian naik komuter. Dan pada sebelah malamnya, apabila balik ke tempatku, selalunya ada mesyuarat yang akan berakhir pada pukul 2 atau 3 pagi. Walaupun begitu, aku bukanlah keseorangan. Selalu ada perempuan bernama A yang menemani, yang sanggup mendengar keluhanku atau luahan kegembiraanku dalam perjalanan ke sana. Kau mahu tahu kenapa? Kau mahu tahu kenapa kami merutinkan perjalanan ke Mid Valley? Kerana dia. Dia yang menjual kek Yogurt Cheese. Senyumannya selalu hambar. Dia jarang tersenyum. Tapi pada ketika aku dapat melihat senyumannya, akupun turut tersenyum.

Hari ini aku makan Yogurt Cheese dan teringatkannya. Sekarang dia tidak lagi berada di situ. Aku meneruskan perjalanan, dan senyum ketika teringat senyumannya.

Missing

There was once a girl who could stop time. She was on the brink of death though, but she wanted to still live life fully so she went to a get together and there she met a guy she liked. They got along fine and he made her laugh and smile (but she didn’t talk much), he offered her a ride home which she accepted gratefully. When they reached her house, she said goodbye, and stopped time and spent the rest of her short life looking at him and smiling. He moved on with his life like nothing happened, the girl was stuck in time and he never noticed it; just the fact that he never saw her again - the shy girl who was always smiling.