Scribble Series #7

I smell the familiar air,

Heavy with fried fish and coriander,

But also with sausages from the nearby fast food centre.

I can feel fresh sunlight.

Heating up the parapet like olden times.

But no one stands on the terrace drying long hair anymore.

The silence is still heavy,

Lingering at noon time among brick houses,

Silently broken by an old man,

Pushing his cycle cart forward,

Only coloured syrup replaced by branded ice-cream.


Scribble Series- tale 2

“But I already have nail paint on, and I can’t try these”, she said, pouting.

“Do you need to try the colours before buying them?”, he asked with amused concern.

She nodded.

After ten minutes, she came out of the store, beaming, excited to have been able to choose the perfect shade. He followed, smiling at his fingernails, all of which were coated with different shades of pink.