𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚

ii.

the sun has now rolled over the city and is now a colossal, maroon ping-pong ball gliding and spiralling towards the front horizon in slow motion.

you have been walking for some time now, and presently your feet feel pleasantly tired.

you see the old park in front of you, sunlit, with its see-saw and jungle-jim and slide and swings and merry-go-rounds right where you had seen them since forever. a sense of familiarity makes a bundle down your throat as you see the childhood you have left behind, waiting in front of your eyes - beckoning you, welcoming you. even the murmur of the city lights dimming behind your back seems like a half-forgotten past. it doesn't bother you much anymore. you get drawn to the minimal serenity lying before you, the smiling child of the near future. you slow down your strides till you reach the wrinkled gates.

c-r-e-e-e-a-k, the rust laughs.

your eyes catch the glint of the sun sparkling on the bend of the slide. you walk to it, and the sparkle turns to a glow. you run your fingers over the smoothened edges of the ride - sweat, dirt, scratches and a bunch of laughter imprinted and dried upon it. from the corner of one eye, you notice the merry-go-round resting without the slightest of movements. your mind recollects the ever-known experience of a super-fast spin, and you can already feel the funny tingle at the pit of your stomach. the see-saw must be just as weird as it was before. independent alone, heavy with a missing companion, happy when paired.

you finally walk to your favourite part, your swing, whistling softly with the wind as it swayed to and fro. your hand grips the cranky ancient chains. the sun doesn't miss your smile as you sit on the swing and push the ground gently with your feet. jerk forward. return. another push. swing. return. co-ordinate your legs. swing. return. chin up and above. swing. return. feel the wind in your hair. swing. return. let out a laugh. swing. return. now you stop moving your legs to and fro, and let the ride cradle you and the wind caress you more tenderly. swing. return. swing. return. your feet brush the worn-out grass below.

you look straight at the glowing crimson sun, silently picking up a half-finished conversation.

"i saw you smile, i saw you smile," the sun replies.