He’s still wearing the same shirt. His tiny little fingers are twitching as if whispered to me to embrace it. Dark between us makes me unable to see what kind of shoes he used this time, but still, his charming face mesmerizes me all the time. I’m not sure the color of his hair—the first time we met, black dominated of his, just like mine. His nose reminds me of someone’s, while his thin lips pursing in a lovely way. I’m looking at his beady eyes that I like, and he is looking back at me, sadly.
I’m smiling, he’s not.
He doesn’t budge at all so I start to move closer. When I am about holding him in my arms, someone pushes me away. I am confused, I don’t know her. I am angry because she is not allowed me to touch him. I look at her which is much taller than him—but not taller than me. She is wearing the same shirt with my little boy. She is wearing the same color with my little boy. Her short hair is the same with my little boy.
I am confused, she is not. I can’t detect whether she is a girl or a boy. Her hair is way too short. The only thing I know, she is mad at me. I look at my little boy and he is still looking at me wistfully. I ask, they are just being silent. I say something but both of them still silencing themselves. Afterwards, I can’t remember anything beside the hard slap from her. She slapped me as if I had committed a great sin. When my body fall to the ground, it is trembling throughout my joints. Then I realize, I wake up in a place surrounded with white-and-drugs-smelled curtains.
A girl with uniform approaches me, touches my shoulder and asks me if I am okay. I answer with a nod then she leaves. I look around me for a moment to observe. I remember; I remember that damn door. Pain in my body mixed immediately with the pain in my chest. Bowed myself, I shut my face with the palm of my hand, and I start to cry.
I’m crying like a bereaved. I don’t care with the blue-uniform-girl who’s coming to calm me down. I rub my cheek with flooded tears, feeling the burning from what is left. She is mad at me, and my little boy is mad at me. They punish me with it, succeeded in tearing my heart.