‘Open the case, set aside the rag, take out the string of twelve dead insects and rest it on the edge. Close the door and leave.’
An inner voice echoing in my mind, as I slowly regained my consciousness in a shabby cabin. Daylight was still perceived through several slits on the walls that were put together with wooden planks holding the roof.
I knew the gathering had dispersed and already left without trail. The companions, or not? Who still cares?
I opened the wooden case on the table, set aside the rag to the left, took out the string with twelve black cicada or frog of some sort, dead and dry, all in a small oval shape. I was not disgusted, I knew the moment had to come.
I opened the door and closed it behind.
Outside the cabin was a vast ocean of dessert, with numerous dunes rising like waves on a stationary sea surface. I walked carefully up on top of a mound and noted on my left hand the silent little village resting on the fringe of the sand. A figure of a peasant strolled leisurely alone.
I turned my head back and gazed upon the horizon, a twinge of nostalgic sentiment welling up my chest.
I knew the moment had come, the journey was due to commence. with no fearfulness and hesitation, across the dessert to the horizon, I set off to made my way.
My teenage son at high school had come back home and took a seat in front of me in sofa.
I, on accidentally finding out his secret puppy love affair, narcissistically bragged to him about my past bountiful romantic entanglements, which were not entirely genuine. He listened, we hugged each other.
My mother-in-law appeared out of nowhere and sat in sofa. I took a notice of my son’s red school uniform, his height and pale face. He should just look like my old boyfriend back in middle school.