Shortest post I’ve written. But makes sense.
She was too far away to hear his thoughts now, the edge of her sari swishing along between the alleys, the people crowding in on her and yet she stood out, lit by the edges of his eyes and the street lamps above. Barely six years old, his tiny legs and distracted mind couldn’t keep up with her stride, and soon, he lost sight of the only thing keeping him afloat in this world. He didn’t have a home to go back to that night.
He could feel him slipping away, the friend of many years, and the form of all his hopes. His only companion’s house turned into a strange new place, and no amount of despaired looks could get his friend to look back at him. What had he done? Just admitted that he felt differently for him, that he felt more than a friend for him. So why was he being punished?
He was awake when the moment of departure arrived, his consciousness making the decision for him this time. No more looking at boys, it said. A boy can’t love a boy, it said. So felt a part of him depart, the part which flew with his hopes and brought life to his dreams. And even while walking away, it did look back but by that time, his mind had gripped him and conformed him and he had to let it all go.
In response to Faraway