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The Grey World

He tried hard not to look at her. Not to look at those sea blue eyes, half-open like a poem unfinished. But the woman in blue denim jeans and a white top seemed to possess magnetic power, forcing Alef towards her like a moth drawn to a fire.

What was her name? Did she have a lover? A song in her heart? He'd never know.

If only it was a different time, Alef could fall for her, she might pick him from thousand admirers. Surely, a woman like her must have a few lovers, loads of suitors. If only it was another world, holding hands, she and Alef could meander on some half-deserted streets on a soft September evening. Under a full moon, their eyes could meet, their lips could touch. A new song could be born. If only!

But this was not the case.

Here, in this grey world, Alef the believer could love no one. Here, in this rotten world, the woman with sea blue eyes lay dead.

Story by:

Marzia Rahman

21 April 2017