YASMEEN RAFEE URBAN GLOOM

It’s that moment, the silhouettes of the skyscr aper s looming over the streets, the setting sun slicing through the urban gloom, when you see it in your father.

when you step closer, you can see it: the hunch to his shoulder s, the wr inkle between his dar k eyebrows, the ner vous sweat beading upon his woolen scarf.

A cold wind blows through the street, and he hums, pulling you into his side . Stay with me , little one , he chuckles. I’ll stay with you.

there’s exhaustion laced in his voice . It’s a low hum, inter twined with a throaty r asp In it, you see giants falling, succumbing to the slumber of the ear th It’s a heavy wind, howling in the pipes and cr acks in the city’s asphalt, its clouds obscur ing the sun There’s the stunning weight of the urban gloom, r ushing over you

He presses you closer, insistently, and your outside , he mur mur s.

It’s that moment, when you hear the defeat in your father’s r umble , that the child inside weeps within you.