precipice

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today i sat beside the window gazing out through the rain-drenched main roads and people walking under their umbrellas. i sat beside the window like always, clipped to my headphones trying hard to fall asleep. i had been avoiding a phone call with no apparent reason, the waltz of the swans filling in on what was supposed to be a pleasant ringtone being answered.
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someone sat beside me the way i wanted someone to sit beside me, with the kind of closeness defying the anonymity encircling my personal space. i knew i was being observed so i arched my neck to the left like an ugly duckling coming to terms with its age. someone sat beside me close enough that i pretended to fall asleep.
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the ride had taken an hour, but it was enough. the distance i had traveled had only been a few inches from where i sat alone. from a watcher’s point of view, it would’ve seemed we were passing through together. perhaps we had in another life, had that lifetime become today, and today being the tomorrow i had thought about.
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the rain seeped through the windows and spilt water on my clothes. i did not mind. i had imagined my hands holding on to someone else’s but …
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today was a different day. i sat in my chair, my usual eloquence spilling through the assortment of messages. i did not realize I had been talking too much. i did not even bother reading through the reply. then I did. and for the first time, i fell silent not of my own will. i fell silent not because i became afraid. it’s funny how a few simple words could disarm me without my knowing. and here i thought i had improved my vocabulary so much already. here i thought i had picked up on the rules of literacy and paying for bus fares when i could’ve easily walked the steady pace.
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the glass was about to break but it felt comforting, knowing someone would help me pick up the pieces, the closeness defying the anonymity of my personal space. after a long time of wanting to be detached, i am reminded of how it is to miss someone again. to fall silent for all the right reasons. i had no headphones, no music filling in the background; just me sitting on a chair, gazing through an imaginary glass-guarded precipice of open words.
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for once perhaps, i’d let myself unfurl and not pretend to be dying.
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