Silence engulfed the room. The time was travelling at a high speed, the train bursted in the city. Floods rushed to the streets.
Move aside! Move aside!
Oscillated in my eardrums. I ran outside. My mother ran inside. The breathes on the bed, were breaking. It was heart aching. My father was calling for a doctor.
'No doctor is available, it's pandemic' cried my brother.
The silence transformed into panic, with new faces changing colors. I see colors fading. I tried to hold them in my palms but they outflowed like a loved one longing, to just touch the dying flower once, before it's petals fall. I see my Father wearing Little Prince's attire, remember the one, who got lost from his planet, where everything was small like butterfly's lifespan. History became numb, and numbers lost their days counting, coz keeping the souvenirs in hand became heavy, as my father shouldered my grandmother to his father.
Everyone in the graveyard celebrated the homecoming of an orphan. My father was the new king, with no kingdom in his name.
I left my home and it grew into a Baobab. It held centuries like paled pages and the memories were swinging on all the branches. The pangs of conscience held my father's eyes finding his mother, Why he couldn't save his home?
Everyone stood behind him, keeping their empathy on his back and the leaves turned sympathic towards the 685 synonyms of farewell.
