Life unfolds like a mystery box, often revealing unexpected jolts that startle us, akin to a sudden jump scare in a suspenseful movie—a genre I've never fancied. Seated idly on a bench, my gaze flits nervously from one hunched figure to the next as students pass by, their silhouettes blurring in my anxious vision.
In the backdrop, amidst the rustling leaves and distant student chatter, I discern the familiar voices of Emiko and Milo. We await the others in a serene spot beneath the sprawling branches of a majestic cedar tree, its evergreen foliage a stark contrast against the autumnal shedding of nearby trees. The cedar's vibrant greenery stands out like a beacon of life.
"Is vintage all the rage now?" Emiko muses. "This guy's asking to write with a quill, bro this is not the Edo period anymore!" she exclaims.
"I know, right? There's this dude in our class, he dresses like it's the 1920s," adds Milo in his deep voice. "Maybe full-on vintage, from attire to behaviour, is becoming a trend."
"I know the one. He was eyeing Sakura the other day," Emiko chuckles, prompting a gasp from Milo. "No way," he exclaims, and they both dissolve into laughter.
Despite their jovial banter, my heart feels heavy. Every passing stranger seems a potential suspect behind the mysterious notes, and my pulse quickens with each accidental eye contact, fearing they might reveal themselves as the culprit.
It's a peculiar sensation—yearning to uncover the truth yet simultaneously wishing it remained hidden. A part of me wishes it were all a dream, a figment born from Emiko's accident—the genesis of this unsettling mystery.
Emiko senses my growing unease and gently places her hand on mine. "You okay?" she asks, her voice as soothing as a melodic string instrument. "To be honest, I'm convinced it's just a prank," she reassures me. "They probably think you're an easy target."
"What?" I respond, surprised.
"Don't let it get to you. Whoever's playing this sick prank is revelling in your agony," Milo interjects. "You have all of us. What are you even scared of?"
"I don't know. I just don't feel safe," I admit softly, my voice barely a whisper, but both Emiko and Milo catch it. They exchange knowing looks, their concern evident.
Milo starts to add something more, but the shrill noise of my phone ringing interrupts him. I quickly retrieve it from my pocket, and the caller ID glows back at me.
"Amma!" I almost squeal, realising it's my mom calling, a smile creeping up on my face as I hastily excuse myself, tapping the button blinking in green.
The familiar figure of a soft, wrinkled face, deep black eyes brimming with love, and ebony curls with silver streaks greets me as Mom appears on the screen.
"Ammaaaa...."
I feel my eyes moisten as my heart fills with sudden assurance of warmth, safety, and love, feelings I've missed every single day during the years I've thrived alone.
"Chuti duva... Oh, my little girl, how's life?"
The question feels harder to answer than it should, my last functioning brain cells fighting over whether to break into a river of tears, worrying the poor woman, or to plaster a smile on my face and act like everything is alright.
Finally, the rational side wins the argument with the thought that the whole ordeal could just be a silly prank, and worrying Mom over it isn't worth it.
"All good Amma. Just a little busy," I reply, trying to sound upbeat despite the knot of worry tightening in my chest.
"Awww... have you eaten yet?" My mom's voice is filled with concern, her love palpable even through the phone line.
YOU ARE READING
A SHADE OF LOVE : Coffee Brown | ONC 2024
Romance[ 𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬𝑫 ] "Sometimes we love people the way we love the stars." "How?" "We love them knowing we can never have them." *** Reincarnating into a world he never knew existed wasn't what Iwan had in mind when pleading for a second chance. It...
