Now I Am Become Desperation, the Destroyer of Worlds

Day 69

Grimy fingers stretched from beneath a pile of rags, a pair of hollow eyes beseeching me from a sallow, upturned face. I did not understand the harsh words coming from the cracked lips, but I knew them all the same.

Food. Money. Help.

I wanted to sneer at the pitiful bundle, scarcely a child, but found I had room for neither pity nor contempt in the hollow tightness of my chest. My heart fluttered. My ears buzzed. My life unwound in my mind like a film on fast forward, flashing so quickly I was born and grew old in the span of two breaths. Over and over it played, until it was a blur, blending into the background of my consciousness like the noise of the street cart peddlers selling their steaming spoonfuls.

My stomach tightened, pushing bile into my throat. I grimaced, resisting the urge to vomit. A woman passed nearby, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. It could have been concern. I chose scorn. That made it easier.

The grungy street stretched on before me, colored here and there with clear puddles of last night’s rain, busy boots breaking their clear reflections. A low hum and throb rose as the city awoke, spilling its people out from cracked buildings. The street filled. My palms grew cold with sweat.

Nori had not wanted me to go. She beat my chest with her small fists, leaving bruises.

I insisted it was the only way.

Take care of the children, I said. I will see you, very soon, and we will all be together again.

Her dark eyes, moist with heartbreak, stared. I closed the door on them, and a piece of me broke off and fell away, never to return.

It was just ahead, beneath a large bank of grimy signboards. A knot of people was gathering, roiling, bickering over moldy scraps. A lightness took the air from my head; I saw stars, nearly pitching forward into the filth.

I looked down. Battered sandals, scarred feet, old shoes zigging before me. The closeness of humanity pressed into my flared nostrils until I could smell no more. A car horn, the murmur of a thousand voices, the barking of a dog on a balcony overhead, the harsh growl of a scolding mother…faded as I stopped amidst the hurried steps, looked up through the cables into the clearing sky, and thought of her dark eyes.

I will see you soon.

My finger found the button’s cold plastic, and then everything was gone.

This is but a small piece of my lifelong daily writing practice. If you enjoyed this, you may also like some of my other writing, which includes short fiction, novel excerpts, and other essays.