Where was I? So many familiar faces. What were we doing in a church? The man was about to speak. Why were people leaving? I don’t understand anything any more.
We weren’t in the church anymore. There was a bus in-front of us. So, this must be a tour of some sort. They were taking a short cut. Looks like we are too. The road doesn’t even look usable. Was it even a road. It seems awfully too close to the edge.
Why am I outside? Did I chose to walk? Seems like I wasn’t the only one. She was talking as the guys were taking pictures. The bus was moving slowly. What was it that I saw on the driver’s face? As they fell I saw so many faces pressed against the windows trying to get out. Did I hear myself scream or was it them? Smoke. “Somebody call an ambulance.” I stood at the edge screaming at them to get out; get out before they went up in flames.
Did I cry? Maybe, I did. All I could feel was his strong arms around me. I was warm and safe. I didn’t let go of his hands all throughout the questioning. I told them how I saw it fall, how I stood still as it fell, how I only opened my mouth after the bus nose-dived down. Why were we outside, they wanted to know. I was, as I was scared. The others thought it might be more fun to walk across. Did I laugh? I don’t know.
So many bodies went across. So many young lives. I knew some of them, very well. Too well. Should I ask? Were they all dead? Do we continue this journey? We’d lost so much on that bus. Was I selfish? I worried about my luggage, the pendant she gave me to remember her by. Maybe, I should have been on the bus. Did the others feel lost too? I’m sure they did. We were the ones who got off despite the co-ordinator’s disapproval. They’d chosen to stay in the bus, did they choose to die?
We were at the hotel. Our floor was so quiet. So many empty rooms around. I wondered if the ones in the hospital would make it back. Would they stand at the balcony, look down and laugh at how small everything looked? She asked if I wanted food. No, I needed air. There were so many windows here. So much glass. I saw their faces pressed against the windows trying to get out. She said she’ll bring something for me as she walked down with the guys. I’ll be up, I said, getting some air.
The 23rd floor. The terrace. It was cold. Was it this cold earlier? I stood against the railings. Did they fall from this high? Will I step up on to the edge? Will I choose to jump? If I did, will I feel like them falling? I could choose, they couldn’t. I couldn’t look down anymore, I knew I fell. Where?
I was warm and safe in his strong arms. Walk forward, move on? Maybe we did.
Note: I dreamt up half of this on an uneventful birthday morning, hence the incoherency. Also, I’m on the lookout for this guy who gives nice warm hugs. Such a lovely thing to wake up to.