Harke looked towards me, he paused for a second, his eyes moved like a planet vacillating in the white matter decaying into yellowness, it was clear to me that he was trying to claim an idea from his head. His brown eyes dove a little darker, pupils dilated and moisture found its way into his normally dry and sharp eyes.
” When I was a child” he said. Anyone who says ‘when I was a child’ is undoubtedly plagiarizing, then he switched.
Another pause. Damn him ! I am starting to believe there is a director hiding in one of the folds of his outward ears.
“She once placed me on top of a flight of stairs and she went down towards its end and looked back at me.” he continued slowly.
“I remember the horror, (pause) in my mind, the sight before my eyes, the countless numbers of hurdles in front of me, waiting for my unsure steps. My hands, if they could, would have flapped to carry me through the air to my mums arms. But I stood there, barely have learned to stand well, expected to tackle a freaking flight of stairs.”
He bring his fingers really close to his face, does not make contact.
“I remember the redness of my cheeks then. I can remember the feeling in my knees, the exact uneasy configuration of my eyebrows. Today at twenty five- I look at my life, I have the exact same feeling I had when I was five and atop a flight of stairs, the difference is this time around my mom does not wait for me at the end of it all.”