EPIPHANY
It was 2007. A feather flailed into my closet. That was the time when sparrows still chirruped sanguinely, and the rains were soothing. My childhood bloomed like the flowers on my mother’s tiny little nursery.
Today, time has reclaimed everything. The air smothered in smog. Gas masks are the norm of the day. Smiles have faded. We’re alive, yet buried years ago. We dug our own grave.
It’s 2040. We didn’t come this far only to come this far.