Author: Mouna Kacem

The breeze played with my hair, sending a strand over my eyes. I pulled it away and frowned. The once midnight-black mane had now some white strands. I flipped my head to the side, looking at the waterfall of salt and pepper. When did this happen? I reached to brush my fingers through it, but a veiny hand came in sight. It’s my hand? My mouth hung low when I brought both hands in front of me, turning them back and forth. They were wrinkly. A deep chuckle caused me to drop them on my lap. I flipped my head…

They think I’m depressed because I refuse to leave this bed. I’m not. I put the tray on the table next to me. They want me to eat, but I don’t need food. The birds chirp on the tree at the window in front of me. If I stare long enough, the voices of the people around me will fade to a background noise, then they’ll stop and leave at the end. But I won’t leave. I tuck a greasy strand of hair behind my ear. They say I’m depressed. I scoff. The only thing keeping me here is hope.…