Amir Saleem

That bridge was the only means of connection between us.

Every morning she would appear from the far corner as the sun rose behind her from the hazy skyline. Her smile was her constant company and the contours of her hair seemed to have their own pulse. Her attire embodied a sense of style that was deliberate.

We would cross each other, in the hazy sun, somewhere in the middle of that bridge that connected our worlds. I passed by her, she smiled, I gestured with my hands, saying a hello to the morning sunshine. It was a custom, a tradition, a norm, a habit; something that I wanted to do, something that I waited for.

Yet there was a distance; a distance of a few steps, of a few seconds, of a few words. I could never figure a way to remove or even slightly diminish the existence of that cold space that fell between us.

That evening, she appeared while the sun was taking a stroll back home and I stood beside the railing, staring down the silently flowing river. There was restless in the air, unanswered questions in my head and countless tangled thoughts in my heart. I wasn’t thinking of anything specific; merely lost my way in the silence of a thousand unspoken words.

The sound of her footstep approached me and stopped; a soft hand rested on the back of my hand and then tapped it gently. She looked at me with a smile shimmering on her lips and said, “Dream!” I smiled back at her and watched has as she walked down the bridge.

Plenty of answers walked through my head; the river water started sparkling in the rays of the falling sun. It was only a question of a dream.

That dream became the means of connection between us.