Lost and found

The last beams of soft sunset ebbed away slowly…I was still at my desk, thinking. Reminiscing the past. I was strolling through the unnamed streets of gone days, where each window had a memory on sale. I pulled my coat together, in an effort to warm myself, as a gust of wind blew over me; making a chill run down my spine.

And then—I stumbled into someone. A pile of photographs scattered on the pavement: some colored, some black and white and a few sepia. Each photograph calling out to me: with crippled hands enclosed within the photo paper. I bent down to help him gather the pictures. As I started gathering the photographs, I saw a portrait in black and white—it was a girl—me! I kept staring at the picture: A youthful face, smiling lips, twinkling eyes—I could feel the colors through the colorlessness. “Thank you so much!” said the man, as I handed him the portrait reluctantly. He was still standing there, perhaps waiting for me to look at him for once. “You’re wel…” I stopped mid-sentence. I was stunned. He had a face I’d not seen for so long that I should’ve forgotten the features. It was a face—engraved with the harsh tides of the past decade—you! Brimming with tears, I turned my eyes away and ran—as fast as my feet could take me—far, far away. Maybe you should have tried to call me back for once…

A figure in the fog

A bend in the country road;

Lost and found.