I sat on the rail, my bare feet dangling 10 stories above ground. The summer breeze was gentle. I was, for some reason, calmer than I should have been. Maybe my overactive imagination had prepared me for what was to come.
I heard footsteps behind me. A familiar rhythm that I loved so much. A rhythm that used to signify the start of a wonderful time, now made me dread. She tapped my shoulder ever so lightly. I did not move my gaze from the bustling cityscape. I did not want to face her. It would have been too painful. Even she knew that.
"I'm sorry." She tried to break the silence. But it did not.
"I'm sorry!" This time her voice broke. I tried to control myself. I turned my head to the left. Away from her.
"I am sorry." This time it was me. "It's not your fault. You did what anyone would do. I'm to blame. I was the weak one. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have said it. I shouldn't have even thought about it." I said, without missing a beat. Emotionless. In my mind, I had replayed this outcome so many times that all my emotions had already been drained. She was crying. I was not. Neither one of us was wrong. Yet, we were.
"The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?"
I looked at her and smiled. She looked at me, unwilling to accept what I said.
"I can't." She said, covered in tears. "Remember me. That will be enough." I turned my eyes to the sinking sun as she began walking away.
"Thank you." She stopped, "Thank you for existing in my life." She walked away. Her footsteps echoed in the stairwell as I tried to drown myself in that rhythm. One last time.
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Bangladesh • 21 years old