Pencil in Hand # 13

Amongst the overarching gloom that hung about the wintry sky and the gentle breeze that caressed our souls, you could still see that something was on his mind. As he slowly made his way up the central steps, the ones gathered didn't notice or feel his exuding sadness. The world had chosen its anonymous victim. Fate, with unrelenting force, had made a decision. The perils to come for this young man were only beginning. With omnipotent intrusion I understood what he felt. I related to his confrontations with insurmountable obstacles. He stared back at me for what seemed like an eternity, silently confessing, hoping that I may shed some repressed tears instead of him. As if deliberately trying to transfer his load of woes into my foreign pool. He was introspectively admitting to me all of his secrets without uttering a single word. I understood him, better than anyone else in this world. And still, I was but a reflection of his torment. In me, he saw something that no one ever could. The truthful truth of his existence, his ambitions, his dreams, his fears, his reality, his all. He stared and stared until it was time to go. Relieved? Or perhaps even more confused than when he arrived, he left. And so did I. Until we meet again. Perhaps at that time, he'll let a minimal sigh of relief morph itself into a single smile fuelled by accomplishment.

-YB?