Act 6, Scene 2: Cosmos

Prompt fromĀ here.

‘I want to see the world,’ I heard you say.
With those twinkling eyes, you looked like a little boy telling me he wants to be an astronaut.
‘What is the world to you?’ I heard myself ask.
I looked up from my cup of tea, absentmindedly stirring it.

You looked surprised.
Probably wondering where the question came from.
I chuckled.

‘World is a place that is not home,’ you seemed to ponder aloud.
I leaned forward, curious. ‘Why would you want to leave home so badly?’

An embarrassed grin crept across your face, but no answer surfaced.
It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to know the message behind your expression.

It was not that you want to leave your home.
Someone was already out there calling you to follow her footsteps around the universe, inviting you further and further away from where you are right now – from where we are right now.

You once told me that I made you feel like home.
That was why you liked having me around.

That moment, I understood.

I might be your home.
But that special someone…
She was already your world.


Act 6, Scene 1: Burden

Prompt from here.

‘How long has it been?’
‘Too long, even knowing not a single second would bear any fruit.’

‘Doesn’t that stop you?’
‘It doesn’t.’

‘You give, but you can never expect any return. It just doesn’t work that way.’
‘I know. Even that hasn’t stopped me either.’

‘Because I can’t choose whom.’

‘Forget. Walk away. Look for someone else.’
‘I want to want it.’

‘You’re an idiot.’

I smiled sadly.

– a conversation with a friend.

Act 3, Scene 3: Reading Unread

Prompt from here.

A few times the thought had occurred to me, yet no reason had ever risen for it to happen. It had always been a thought, a wishful thinking: a scene in which a simple thing happened and no consequences followed – as if it was just another sunrise and another sunset hovering above the polluted skyline.

I blinked, the last copy of National Geographic lying still on the shelf right under my nose. To buy or not to buy – that is the question. There wasn’t any obvious motive to get it other than the conversation I had with him two weeks ago, again revealing how he never ceased to amaze me with his ignorance towards the New World.

How does one not know about National Geographic?
Or is it just me being too geeky to grew up reading it instead of Disneyfied Grimm’s fairytales?

Precious minutes wasted, I gave up and grab the copy, then brought it to the cashier. Within seconds I’ve walked out the bookstore with the infamous yellow-framed magazine in my hand with unclear intention of what to do with it. Was it my old self trying to be nostalgic or my newer self seeking a justification for spending unnecessary money on something I’d give away in the end, I had no idea.

That was last week.

Until this day, the outdated copy is still lying on the table in my room, its perfectly smooth pages mocking my coward act the day I bought it. The circumstances had risen along with the will. Problem was, the courage ran away with its tail between its legs. I let the sun set once more without the magazine changing hands. Then another sunset. And about five more sunsets.

I blinked, the same copy of National Geographic in my hands while I sat on the edge of the bed – once again hearing the imaginary mockery coming from the same unread pages.