Short stature, bold eyes yet torn aged visibly through the surface water brimming to the edge of false strong. Humming to herself, as if no ear has ever got her diminished voice to hear, like a bird we would have heard of but never reached to its comprehensive audibles.
Motionless figure, sitting like a deserted shore with waves screaming in the content of something true and screaming back in desolate for returning to its poor village after a long Vacay of tiredness. She finally, tried hiding her most distrustful of metallic birds capable of enduring too many mundane bodies and flying from one place to another.
Laughter fading to murmurs and snores of adults and lamenting sober kids as labeled by their half-dead mums at their best of forms, whereas long beautiful humans are seen to serve other humans, very well learned of etiquettes. Hustle and Bustle. Halfway into the forced distractions around, suddenly she was snapped back to her senses with a jolted touch as if a radio jockey is trying to fill the music of no genre to the ears, unable to balance the liquid dancing, causing her nausea.
Service, she thought to the level of praise. It rang a bell. But, an aisle just like a path so crowded took her back to the place, a face, a home, a room, a life, alive she left. Intrusion into her very existence like a volcanic eruption burning her peace to pieces pushed her way into the very happening of aisle amid her lonely life.
Aisle
