Monica embraced the teddy the way she always held onto her mother whenever frightened of something. With ambiguous eyes, she stood there gazing in the direction of the sun. An otherwise playful Monica was touched by a deep silence unknown to her before – silence that’s reminiscent of a coming storm.
The wind chime placed in her room shattered the stillness with its rhythmic soft tune. But it failed to break the overpowering silence with its melody.
The emerald green crystal vase lay on the table sparkling like always. But today the withered sunflower seemed to fade its beauty. It subtly lent a pale and gloomy air to the vase’s sheen. The flowers were two days old. The dried petals in front of the vase lay lifeless, as if nothing – not even the beauty of life itself could revive it.
Monica ran her finger softly over the dried petal. Despite being gentle, she felt its powdery residue coating her fingertips as soon as she touched it. Its fragility bore a close resemblance to that of life. Engulfed by a sudden feeling of vulnerability, she dropped her teddy. It hit the floor without any resistance – the resistance to hold onto what is dear. A drop of tear rolled down from her cheeks. She swallowed its saltiness with a pinch of angst.
She knew that a lot was amiss. She knew that life’s unfairness had not just uprooted her from her world, but had annihilated it forever. A fatal car accident had not just turned her into an orphan, but injured her for life.
Even in the brightest hour of the day, a bleak future awaited her.