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Writing
“You write!” she said. “Little does she know,” I thought. I’ve been here. I’ve been through these spurts of writing, letting it flow through me. When it cannot, I force it out of myself for my own good. Those memories are blurry. I don’t remember writing anything in my childhood. I remember listening, having distinct…
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Routine
“You don’t get it,” she said. “But I know exactly what you mean,” I thought. It took you a few months to go from “You’re the best part of my day” to “You’re my day.” But it happened to me way before. I let that addiction engulf me before I let our bodies get habitual…
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Longing
“I miss you,” she said. “Then come here,” I yearned silently. Caress me. Cradle my head in your lap. Put me to sleep. You don’t understand when I wake up in the middle of the night; I struggle to find solace in my own head. I long for you. I close my deteriorating eyes and…
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Pre-Fever Dream
“Feels like a fever dream,” she said. I hoped it would never end, I thought, just like those seven days when we gave each other fever. Looking back at our time together, all those whimsy moments we shared – those are the seven days I cherish the most. I loved how we decided to clean…
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Aazmaish
I hear them discussing Ramzaan, how enduring without food and water is a challenge. I contemplate, “My Ramzaan has already commenced.” She’s my food, my water. I spill to a friend, “These days are dragging on endlessly.” He remarks, “It’s an ‘Aazmaish,’ a damn test.” Best believe, I’m fucking good at tests. She’s my sustenance—…