a short story by Teo Yu Sheng
And so I was alone again.
As the door slammed shut, and as the lock on the metal gate clicked, I became aware of the silence. The silence that echoes off the walls, that permeates through the humid air, that somehow persists in spite of the music blaring from the inadequate speakers of my beloved laptop.
I looked out of my window and pictured a bird flying in the sky, with the sun on its back and the wind ruffling through its feathers. It was free, and at peace, and very, very hungry. And as it looked down in search of food, its eyes caught the sight of its own shadow.
The shadow that fleets through the leaves of trees, that stretches far and wide, that catches up no matter how fast it flies, or how high it climbs. A mass of darkness that is always distorted, and yet always an inseparable part of its existence. And when the bird gets tired, when its wings can no longer flap, or when its heart can no longer beat, gravity will pull it back to the reality of the ground below, and shadow and body will finally reunite.
Nothing can separate them again.
I looked around the empty sky, scattered with clouds on the brink of dispersion.
And so I was alone again.
***
Cover illustration and design by me.
Thanks for reading!
