The clock struck sharply at quarter to 1 a.m. It was pitch black with nothing but the whistling of trees and the gushing of wind, furiously creaking into the window panes and the empty space that was her sound but silent apartment. Squinting her eyes, careful not to let the sweet call of slumber fly away, she decides to switch her bedside lamp on, turning a bright luminescent shade of white light that fills her room, and leaves the roaches of the night scampering to safety.
She had had a long day, one that had been filled with utter discomfort and disregard for her own peace of mind. It was one of those days, she would remind herself from time to time; trying to pat herself on the back. Saying she had better days ahead, even better years to come; and that she would rest then; then when everything had worked itself out. However, this reality was sadly becoming bleak with each passing day. This night was not so different either. She couldn’t figure out why she was up at that late hour.
With a disgruntled sigh, she decides to skimper out of her twin sized bed, all the while squinting her eyes hoping to muster the little sleep she has left. Dotting nothing but her polka –dotted pyjamas and oversized t-shirt, she stealthily tries to creep into the bathroom. Suddenly a loud crash of glass, shattering it into pieces, halts her tip-toeing. She can’t help but curse into the night why she had to leave her comfortable fleece duvet, for she had hit her favourite wine glass onto the tiled floor, hindering her trip to relieve herself.
A quick glance to her right, lay a broom, as if the events unfolding had all been planned out. She now begins furiously sweeping the scattered pieces of glass. She tries to gather all that she can with one sweep. With that however, she uncovers a tattered, brown-edged photograph. Oddly enough, in all of its wearing out, it seemed to have withstood desert storms and the immense torture of the creatures of the night. In her hand, she now held a fond memory, one that had been etched deeply at the back of her mind.
She was younger then, full of hope, full of joy and naïve to the fact that life did not end at the swift bend of a rainbow. She was happy, with her hands firmly clasping his. She was more than happy, she had been in love. Crazy in love. Enough to find herself slowly running her fingers across that half torn picture, where his face had almost been eaten away.
She found herself whispering silently, how she wishes things had worked out differently. How she misses him. Young love, ever so vibrant and filled with sleepless nights. Theirs was such. The one that made you stay up into the night, promising each other sweet nothings. ‘To the moon and back’ ,they used to say. Well, it was good while it lasted.’ Nothing lasts forever’, she uttered as she brought herself back to toss the photo away. As she did so, she couldn’t help but notice one of the edges was clearly left untouched. It was also peeling off from the back. Suddenly a huge lump of excitement rose within her, as she carefully lifted the edge of the picture. Revealing a once familiar handwriting; her heart pounded in anxiety, like it had once pounded for him.
There at the back of that forgotten picture, laid a few words. Words that had been addressed to her. Words that spread a wide smile across her face. It’s not until she finished reading them that she realised that she had been holding her breath all the while long.
Warm tears began rolling down her cheeks. All this time, the one unanswered question, answered in one paragraph. For the first time that night, she smiled at that happy accident. That sweet coincidence, albeit late, was the one sign that she had been craving for. She threw the broom away, jumped back into her bed and closed her eyes tight. She was content, she was going to sleep soundly again. Finally she had something worthwhile to look forward to the next day…