By Ravi Kakkad
The world ripples. I am afraid.
Everything was normal a moment ago. Black and white and all the shades of grey. The sky was lighter with the joy of summer, the grass a bit darker, a bit deeper, and his eyes were a living greyscale. They were beautiful.
Now, the sky is wrong. The grass is wrong. But different types of wrong. The grass is nothing like the sky. The buildings are nothing like the grass. The world is nothing like the buildings or the grass or the sky. Everything burns to look at.
I take a chance. I look at him. He looks back at me. His eyes… They glow, the same shade as the sky and just as endless. But they’re warm and soft and still, thankfully, his.
He smiles. I smile, too.
The world has rippled. I am still afraid. But, maybe, it will be okay.