Withdrawing herself from her environment, her present, and her demonic thoughts, she lay face downward on a bed; cuddled and crying like a three-year old. A painful shriek would suddenly escape her lips some time between her silent sobs, and stir the angels that surrounded her.
“Why do you cry?” I asked, waiting impatiently for a response. But I knew I won’t get one— and I didn’t, for she never trusted anybody. Not even her own self.
“Please stop wasting your tears? It hurts me to see you like this!” I begged – only to be ignored again.
It was after some long minutes that she stopped, and the room fell silent; the kind of silence where you could have heard a pin drop clearly. Then she moved and stretched, sitting finally at the corner of her bed and began to stare her hands.
“Pretty girl! Will you listen to me?” I moved towards her, pausing for a second and then resumed, “Why do you cry? Do you know not how painful it is, to see a soul shatter in front of your very eyes? And don’t you know how, for every dark cloud, a silver lining has been created? For every ailment a cure, every puzzle a key, and for every tear a smile? Can you not wait?”
She looked at me blankly, her eyes red and swollen.
“Listen, little princess! Your tough times will pass away soon, because no time stays for ever, never!”
She nodded slightly and looked down.
“Do you hear? Why don’t you speak?” I asked, thinking I knew why.
She kept silent, now tracing imaginary circles from her right hand’s index on her left palm. I went closer and held out my hand. She did nothing. I then tried putting my own on her shoulder but it passed right through.
One of us wasn’t possibly existing.