YJF U The Dust Between Us
T
he boy had bronze eyes that radiated beatific command. They were brown in the darkness of a shadow, and aflame when set against the glare of the winter sun. A clarity and mania was at play in those eyes, and shards of sensuality and disobedience percolated his gaze: the kind of gaze that reached into far corners. A kaleidoscopic haiku captured in a three second stare. It was a poetry that made him light-footed that morning as he half skipped down Avenue D, clipboard in hand in this new, but distorted pastoral. Giddily he went, head empty of any conscious thought, the beatific brown eyes unstitching, absorbing and radiating the beauty of the icicles that adorned the lines of automobiles. One step misplaced was all it took for discord to envelop and choke his joyous spirit. As if from nowhere, the Christmas lights blinked sarcastically in garish, condescending colour. They mocked him, jeered, and determined to ruin his day. Then, resolute as a domino, he plunged towards the door of number 22. That‘s when I saw him through the window, the filthy window that gave his face that airbrushed quality- the cloudy, dreamy effect seen in black and white films from the past. An ostentatious face. ‗How dare such a thing exist?‘ I told myself. I could smell petals that ached to be crushed, already rootless 46