The duvet couldn’t keep him from the cold, so he stretched to put off the air conditioner, only to realize it was already switched off.
He wondered when he put it off as he surrendered to the pull of his bed. The pillow felt wet.
Then he remembered that he had been crying. At that realization, for some reason, the bed seemed to let him go, so he moved to the floor.
He stared blankly into the dark. All that occupied his mind was ‘Molade.
Her smile, her giggle, her heart, her purity.
His scream broke the room’s silence. He wailed and wept bitterly. Truly she was gone. Gone from his life. Forever.
“But that loss was ten years ago,” a voice in his head said. “You are getting married in two days and you can’t let anyone know about this pain. Deal with it Temi!”
His crying stopped a while after the thought. He got up, washed his face and looked into the mirror.
All he could see was smoke. Smoke and shadows.
He would march down to his car and drive to his fiancee’s house. He would tell her he loved her and that she was the only woman in the world he cared about.
He would tell her a version of the truth. Like we often do. When we say “we are fine” (smoke) which hardly shows the fire burning on the inside or when we smile for the camera all the while knowing that the true image of our desires versus reality hardly matches what our pictures (shadows) display.