Wayne started beating me five months into our marriage. Initially, it was simply an unexpected slap or a punch to the kidney. It was so unpredictable and out of character that I deemed it my fault. I reasoned that I must have brought it on myself, and that I deserved it. That naïve perspective changed when the abuse became far more regular and intense. After two further months of humiliating, soul-wrecking beatings, I finally walked out. I left with only the clothes on my back and firm resolve burning in my heart. I moved in with a friend, but I knew I needed help. “Speak to Mr. Eden,” Sinead advised me. “You know he's always been kind-hearted to us and helps everybody without hesitation,” she added persuasively. And that's how I ended up outside his office the next morning, clutching my college bag and courage firmly to my breast. Mr. Eden was the College Counselor, and one of the most unselfish men I had ever met. Not a single student had ever been turned away by this gentle, unassuming man. And I was about to ask him to not just go the extra mile, but to also go out on a limb for me. How classically clichéd. “Marina, come inside,” Mr. Eden invited me the minute he saw me. “Have a seat. How's life been treating you?” he asked innocently, but his tone and the innocuous question triggered a flood of sobs. I was embarrassed; I chastised myself for making such a spectacle of myself. Mr. Eden instantly took charge, soothing me with encouraging words and a soft tone. He offered me a bottle of water, which I gratefully accepted. I confided completely in him. I was surprised by the first words he said, but I shouldn't have been. “We need to get you into a women's shelter today. I know a place near the college. I will take you there after I've called them to give them a heads up, all right?” As if that wasn't enough, this amazing man then spread the word – with my permission – on the college WhatsApp group that a student needed donations of clothes, toiletries, food; the works. The response was overwhelming! Mr. Eden took me to the Saartje Baartman Women's Shelter, and they agreed to house me as well as try to resolve the problems Wayne and I were having by giving us marriage counselling. All absolutely free of charge! I received so many donations of barely-worn clothes, brand new underwear, toiletries and even money that I could give some of the things to Sinead to thank her for having granted me a safe haven when I had needed it. And the best thing of all? Wayne is a changed man. The couples therapy had opened his eyes, even bringing him to the point where he apologized tearfully to me for ever having lifted a hand to me. “You are a treasure, Marina,” Wayne said to me on the first night I returned home. He was holding me gently in his arms while he spoke in a voice shaking with emotion. “I nearly lost the most precious gift I had ever received, but I will never again be this careless.” “If not for Mr. Eden, both of us would have lost each other,” I said and smiled, feeling the heavy burdens lift off my shoulders like fog burned off by the warmth of a rising sun.

Ding-Dong! “Stand clear of the closing doors, please” blasted the announcer's voice across the station. Jonah had heard this everyday since he could remember. “3 stops till Kingston” he thought, carrying a backpack full of books that he dreaded carrying for hours on the commute to and back from school. Jonah kicked his feet back and forth, his feet grazing the ground just slightly. He stared at the creases on his shoes who's brand he couldn't recall. They were some off brands anyways, no reason to remember which ones. The subway screeched to a halt, the faces outside the car that were once blurred stare back at Jonah. People start to push and shove the minute the doors open. Running up the stairs to leave the station, a mirage of conversations, mumblings and people talking flood Jonah's senses. He can't really make out what they're saying, he doesn't really try. “Jonah! How was school?” Jonah's finally made it to his destination. A small deli run by an older Korean man and his daughter. The sign outside reads “Ray's Delicatessen” but most people here call it “Ray's”, “Mr. Park's”, “the Park/Park” or “the Deli”. For Jonah, he calls it “home”. “Fine Mr. Park! Same as always!” replied Jonah Mr. Park shook his head and chuckled as he continued to tend to other customers, “As long as you're not getting into trouble” It's become a routine, Mr. Park asks how he is and Jonah replies with fine no matter what. Jonah tries to not stress him out, he always hears Hannah, Mr. Park's daughter, complain about her forehead wrinkles, crows feet and smile lines. Jonah doesn't see a problem but still tries to avoid making them worse Jonah slips behind the checkout counter, he sits on the blue crate right under the cash register and starts his homework on his knees like usual. History, English, then Science and Math, hardest to easiest. Jonah loves closing up shop and definitely not just because he gets to eat some of the unsold bagels and sausages. “Ai *tsk* Jonah, you know you mustn't sit here” exclames Mr. Park. Jonah doesn't move, Mr. Park doesn't really care. Time passes, business has been slow these days but it only means more time for Mr. Park and Jonah to talk. The deli was not just a place to get a quick eat for Jonah after school, it was his place of refuge, one of love and community. He had somewhere to be and all Mr. Park asked for in return were English lessons and to use some of Jonah's beginner-level novels to practice his reading skills. Jonah knew Mr. Park stopped needing those lessons a long time ago and for those textbooks, Mr. Park still reads them. Even though he completed all of them, cover to cover, hundreds of times, it still gives those literary works a second life. And Jonah would never mind when Mr. Park read them outloud to him either, even when he pretended to hate it. Bed-time stories were for ‘babies' and not 8 and a half year-olds. Still, “Maybe these books aren't so bad” thought Jonah. For without them, their friendship would be lost in translation.

I used to have a friend who was from another country. I had never seen him in person but, I think, we used to be good friends. I learnt many from him and he always gave me good advice. Because of my marriage I had to delete my facebook account and we are not friends anymore. Now my only friend and adviser is my husband. Alloh never leaves us alone! Allah knows better what is good or bad for us! Don't care and take everything easy! Live your best life!

My Paradise: Now i am going to share my own life story which i underwent when i was 9 or 10 yers old. Let me give you first background general information : when i was 9 our family used to be one of the poorest one in our countryside my dad and mom had nothing to do and no job like other parents, once or twice in a month only my dad used to visit another countryside and he used to came back with a less amount of money. that would be enough for our living expanses, that said , ironically my father was addicted to alcohol , he was alcoholic and used drink even though we had no money for bread. So he spent half of his money for purchasing alcohol drinks. There was always conflict between my mom and dad . Whatever as i was young, immature boy i did not care of anything. I could not get on well both with my mom and dad , instead I had the best family member of us and the best friend of mine his name was alpha and actually he was my dog and both best friend. Today my story is wholly devoted to him, to his memory . i remember whenever i had fight with my father mostly due to his unconciousness i used to go away from home mostly to the hill of the nearest mountain to our home with alpha and rarely i used to cry, weep over everything I do remember once I was going to my frends home for some schoolworks almost by sunset and of course my friend Alpha was going together with me . As usual situation I faced some bullies maybe 3 or 4 , they were just hiding their facewith masks and startood to approach me , I was so proud that i had my brave friend with me . he just sprang up and went to the bullies with barking like the Lucifer , he tried to bite them, that said they ran away and did not come back again . Due to such events i was loving him more and more, day by day as buddy. we used to get, understand each other fully , whenever i came back from school firstly i used to hear the " Welcome home" bark from Alpha. several months maybe a year passed, as usual i came back home from school. hmm but I did not find Alpha he was not home so i went inside of the house there were my parents and brother all together sitting . my dad showed his kind and said " Come on son today your mother cooked soup for you, today is happy day becouse we are going to eat enough meat" . I was happy also I had not have breakfast that day i was starving. i went and sat down I ate couple of bowls of soup and probably 300gramms of meat. I was stuffed. I had never eaten such and I was feeling like a king becouse of lush food . i was a lad who always cares of his friend , I callected all bones which we had cleaned the meat of it and wanted to give them to Alpha. S o I went out and called " Alpha,Alpha come on where are you i have surprize for you". After my dad said " come back son he can not hear you now". I went to him, set down and said " did he go somewhere". Dad said " Yes now he is with you, sitting with you together ( I thought he was on good mood and joking around ) " i said " I am asking seriously, i thibk Alpha is hungr too so let me give these bones to him". Dad laughed a bit and said " No dog eats it's own bones son you now just ate your dog. Whatever I needed to do this becouse we all were hungry also we will not catch cold . do not get upset you will get used to live without him , he was just a dog". I could not say a word only , i was shocked . i felt burst of anger , i raised my noice ,c ryed and sprang up and striked my father several times. Of course my punches were not powerfull so my father asked to stop it and slapped me on face. the flood of tears were on my face i ran to the restroom, put my finger into my throat and vomited voluntary. i was almost unconcious... that is how our friendship ended up. Years passed my father went to Kazakhistan to earn money and fund us. every week i try to find a daily work for some money to pay for my Ielts courses. sometimes as this month I struggle to find 30 bucks and be needed to miss my courses for a month. I hope one day to be a rich person and provide all poor people to be the knowladgable . that is why i am trying to read and learn more everyday . THE END

Old man James sat in front of his porch as the sun caressed his harsh features. His face was relaxed- a rarity indeed, considering he always has a frown etched on his dark face. On Sunday afternoons like this, when all the folks were in church, he sat outside exuding a moment of serenity, like now. I almost gave in to the urge to take a picture commemorating oldman James's first smile in decades. Almost. Consequently, the chattering of people permeated the solemn atmosphere, effectively putting to death old man James' peaceful aura. Kickstarting his feet to life, he stood, grunted a good afternoon to me (much to my surprise since he'd effectively ignored me for the two and half hours I'd been staring at him- or maybe four hours, anyways-), he adjusted His brownish-whatever-coloured cap on his thinned hair and entered his salon before anyone could shout "Old man James". He doesn't look as old as his name implies, however, his never-smile-till-I-die demeanor added a decade to his 50ish self. On the flip side, not many could mess with old man James. I mean, his cold demeanor could give anyone a brain freeze. That, however, doesn't stop the people of Achimota from giving him names. A little payback for all the times he'd declined their festive dinner invitations, or their housewarming parties- which is everytime. So, behind closed doors, he's known as 'memuna' (always frowning), kakai (beast), James Debond (don't ask) among many other derogatory names- by kids and adults alike. I also didn't like him at first. Don't get me wrong but he is rude and scary. The last time, for instance, he'd sacked his client for crying too much and snotting in his shop. The client was two years old and it was raining heavily outside. Both mother and child would have been drenched if my mom hadn't let them in her shop. So yeah, Old man James has a terrible rep. However, hearing his life story from the town's Wikipedia, which is my mother, and writing it down, put things in perspective. Apparently, there was a time Old man James smiled. Believe it or not, he even laughed. Yep. Teeth and all. That was eleven years ago, before he lost his wife in a car accident. According to my mom, it broke him so bad he moved out of their town house in the estate-y side of Achimota, into his barber salon. It finally explains how he manages to keep up with his rent even though few people frequent his shop. Apparently, he's loaded. Anyways, sitting here side by side with Old man James' as he narrates his tragedy, in a voice with more than just coldness in it, will forever be one of my dearest moments in life. It's a shame you think I'd tell the most vulnerable parts of a person's life without said person's clarification. However, It's more shameful that no words can accurately describe the pain, longing, misery and regret running across his features. Apparently, 20th July, was his wife's eleventh year anniversary and he needed someone to talk to. Guess who played incompetent therapist to the melancholic old man James, this girl! For accuracy sake, let's ignore the "he needed someone to talk to" part. This is how the session began Me (suspiciously cheerful): Good morning Mr James Old man James (eyes narrowed in suspicion): *grunts* Me: How are you doing today Old man James: *less enthusiastic grunts* Me( still with a huge smile): Is it me or you sound...sad? As our elders say, happiness is the uhm... antidote for the uhm.. .heart but sadness...sadness is veeery bad, like terrible, you- Old man James (with a heavy sigh and wistful voice): I see your mother told you.. Me (with a heavily dumbfounded face because that's the longest sentence Old man James has ever said to me): Uhh

A sudden global pandemic spirals out of control and then leads to lockdowns across major cities. What does that leave someone with? Nothing but a trail of disruption. For me the situation was a cocktail of activities and opportunities I had never dreamed about either doing or not doing. So here I was, this Nigerian lady of twenty-three trying to figure out my ‘new' life. Starting a relationship was never, ever part of my considerations. So how then did it eventually happen? Educational institutions had gone on break, most businesses and establishments asked to closed down or restrict opening hours and everyone ordered to stay indoors as much as possible to contain the spreading viral disease called COVID-19. But alone at home with little of my life the same as it was before the crisis, my world had transformed into something strange. I was at home doing nothing much except reading my books, catching up with old friends in town through social media and helping around with a little renovation with my siblings. Finding a traditional job that I could engage myself with around my neighborhood and beyond proved futile. It simply was a disaster. No one was hiring anyone new for a job. However, four months into my university break, I found something to do at home that I should say was fascinating: online freelance work. How I got into such a job sometimes makes me wonder but it all started with a friend of mine back from secondary school called Felix. He had sent me a Facebook message asking if I could help him out with some writing gigs. After my initial negative reply which was based on my little experience with creative writing, I agreed to help him. Back in secondary school, Felix was the most captivating of all the boys in my class and I considered him the most brilliant. Once in a while he would top the class but his periodic genius mind wasn't what started our friendship back then. Rather, it was his love for writing and drawing that got my attention. Some probing and demanding on my part made him finally take me as his apprentice. Weeks later, just as I was making some progress with these creative skills, I decided to quit. My love interest in art had gone and in its stead a close friendship had formed between me and Felix. I didn't feel I had it in me to be an artist of any sort or so I thought. Still I occasionally practiced when I needed a break from some stressful things. My first client was a lady, Felix's friend. She requested for a drawing of her boyfriend ahead of his birthday coming up in two weeks. A simple but unique piece of art was my first product in this new world of commerce and it was highly appreciated by many. I did many more interesting gigs after that but the most heartwarming was a love letter I wrote for a girl whose father had survived COVID-19. She cried after reading it stating it was the most love filled message she had read in a long time. Felix had told me about it in the happiest voice and for once in a long while I was moved by that knowledge. Many times I had to refer to the internet for tips on how to go about some projects. And like a mentor that he was, Felix was there to guide me through it all. He shared tips, experience, techniques with me that would help bring better results than the last projects. A year later since I started this new journey I found myself not so enthusiastic about it. It's like I had lost my love and interest for this phase and experience of my life that I felt so withdrawn. True, it was very demanding especially on my creative abilities but I sadly realized I was not in my most unique and comfortable zone. And so like years before, I decided to quit. I sent Felix a message in June, 2021, thanking him for everything: the teaching, support, advice and of course friendship. I told him in the nicest way that I wasn't ready to continue down this road of entrepreneurship, As a second-year nursing student my future career still obsessed me and I did not want to let that go. I did make a request to him that I wanted to be his official business partner in the art industry in future. More of a inactive one I reasoned. Sadly, he did not give a reply when I expected. I was hurt. I imagined he also had the same feeling of disappointment despite the confidence and encouragement he had given me and I still let him down. Some weeks later he responded. “I would gladly have you as my official business partner. Would you please accept my proposal to be my girlfriend?” he wrote back to me. Shock and surprise hit me as I digested the meaning of the message. I had a number of male friends but I had never dated or had a boyfriend before. This really was a first for me. I sent him an affirmative reply teasingly asking if he has had a girlfriend before. He said yes: me, in those days when we were in secondary school. And so that's how my love journey began with a guy called Felix. And till now, we are still going on strong in our relationship.

A sudden global pandemic spirals out of control and then leads to lockdowns across major cities. What does that leave someone with? Nothing but a trail of disruption. For me the situation was a cocktail of activities and opportunities I had never dreamed about either doing or not doing. So here I was, this Nigerian lady of twenty-three trying to figure out my ‘new' life. Starting a relationship was never, ever part of my considerations. So how then did it eventually happen? Educational institutions had gone on break, most businesses and establishments asked to closed down or restrict opening hours and everyone ordered to stay indoors as much as possible to contain the spreading viral disease called COVID-19. But alone at home with little of my life the same as it was before the crisis, my world had transformed into something strange. I was at home doing nothing much except reading my books, catching up with old friends in town through social media and helping around with a little renovation with my siblings. Finding a traditional job that I could engage myself with around my neighborhood and beyond proved futile. It simply was a disaster. No one was hiring anyone new for a job. However, four months into my university break, I found something to do at home that I should say was fascinating: online freelance work. How I got into such a job sometimes makes me wonder but it all started with a friend of mine back from secondary school called Felix. He had sent me a Facebook message asking if I could help him out with some writing gigs. After my initial negative reply which was based on my little experience with creative writing, I agreed to help him. Back in secondary school, Felix was the most captivating of all the boys in my class and I considered him the most brilliant. Once in a while he would top the class but his periodic genius mind wasn't what started our friendship back then. Rather, it was his love for writing and drawing that got my attention. Some probing and demanding on my part made him finally take me as his apprentice. Weeks later, just as I was making some progress with these creative skills, I decided to quit. My love interest in art had gone and in its stead a close friendship had formed between me and Felix. I didn't feel I had it in me to be an artist of any sort or so I thought. Still I occasionally practiced when I needed a break from some stressful things. My first client was a lady, Felix's friend. She requested for a drawing of her boyfriend ahead of his birthday coming up in two weeks. A simple but unique piece of art was my first product in this new world of commerce and it was highly appreciated by many. I did many more interesting gigs after that but the most heartwarming was a love letter I wrote for a girl whose father had survived COVID-19. She cried after reading it stating it was the most love filled message she had read in a long time. Felix had told me about it in the happiest voice and for once in a long while I was moved by that knowledge. Many times I had to refer to the internet for tips on how to go about some projects. And like a mentor that he was, Felix was there to guide me through it all. He shared tips, experience, techniques with me that would help bring better results than the last projects. A year later since I started this new journey I found myself not so enthusiastic about it. It's like I had lost my love and interest for this phase and experience of my life that I felt so withdrawn. True, it was very demanding especially on my creative abilities but I sadly realized I was not in my most unique and comfortable zone. And so like years before, I decided to quit. I sent Felix a message in June, 2021, thanking him for everything: the teaching, support, advice and of course friendship. I told him in the nicest way that I wasn't ready to continue down this road of entrepreneurship, As a second-year nursing student my future career still obsessed me and I did not want to let that go. I did make a request to him that I wanted to be his official business partner in the art industry in future. More of a inactive one I reasoned. Sadly, he did not give a reply when I expected. I was hurt. I imagined he also had the same feeling of disappointment despite the confidence and encouragement he had given me and I still let him down. Some weeks later he responded. “I would gladly have you as my official business partner. Would you please accept my proposal to be my girlfriend?” he wrote back to me. Shock and surprise hit me as I digested the meaning of the message. I had a number of male friends but I had never dated or had a boyfriend before. This really was a first for me. I sent him an affirmative reply teasingly asking if he has had a girlfriend before. He said yes: me, in those days when we were in secondary school. And so that's how my love journey began with a guy called Felix. And till now, we are still going on strong in our relationship.

It is not my right to say that I have come to conclusions about everything in life. However, there is a thing that keeps me always alert about relationships. It is a simple but very delicate thing called trust. There is always a part of our heart that goes with the person we trust to. Here I do not mean only our life partner or friends. Our siblings, parents, blood relatives, and all people we have known for the longest time could be the people we end up concealing our feelings from. Things like we crave to share, meanwhile realizing they will misunderstand us. Ironically, we trust our feelings or thoughts to some strangers on social media by sharing Instagram stories about our state of mind, composing heartfelt posts on Facebook, or via other means of social communication. Some of us block a family member on social media in the first place just because we do not want to explain the reasons why we do not trust them. Sometimes, the people we care about the most turn out to be the people we cannot wholly trust. Just think about it.

She needs to trust me. I'm telling the truth. “Wait!” I shout, as I follow my friend -well, we were friends 1 minute ago- who barged out the door. She continues to ignore me, acting as if i'm not desperately trying to get her attention so we can sort things out. I walk faster in the school halls, letting my feet go after her. She needs to understand that I wasn't lying. Everything I told her was and still is true. Besides, she just finished telling me 2 minutes ago how much she hates the other girl, and now she believes her and not me? I take another big step forward and grab her shoulder, trying to stop her from walking away from the problem. She wrenches her arm away from me. “I didn't lie,” I tell her, my hands fumbling with my lunchbox but my eyes searching her face. “I wouldn't do that.” “I don't believe you, I believe her,” my friend says. I'm getting the hint that we aren't friends anymore. It's messed up how just a few minutes ago, we were. “You have to understand that I wouldn't lie about that and especially not to you,” I say quickly, rushing what I have to say so she doesn't decide to simply leave. “She would confess if she did talk bad about me like you said,” she responds, her fierce eyes piercing into mine. “But I never said she was talking bad about you. I said I heard her talking with the other girl and that she always talks about you.” I look behind me to make sure no one else can overhear our conversation. “You don't have to believe me if you want but i'm telling the truth-” “I can tell when she's lying. And she wasn't,” she says, hatred and envy clear in her voice. I want to tell her that she's making a mistake. I want her to know that I would never lie to her. I care about her like good friends are supposed to. I want to go back to how our friendship was less than 5 minutes ago. But I can't. But why doesn't she trust me? Before I get the chance to say something, she speaks up. “I'm leaving.” Her tone is plain, dry and dismissive. I stutter, all alone, as I watch her walk away from me, not even bothering to say goodbye. Yesterday she texted me and wrote that she loves me, in the way that friends do, of course. I wonder if she feels the same way I do when we text, smiling nonstop, overwhelmed with joy that she actually cares about me, And filled with warmth as I fully realize that we are truly good friends. Now today, I feel the total opposite of that. I feel empty and cold inside, sad yet angry at the same time, trying to figure out who's fault this is. I sigh, forcing myself to hold back my tears. I shift my mood and head to the other room, acting as if everything is normal and I didn't just lose someone I deeply care about. When I arrive home, I decide to text her, careful of my choice of words: “Hey u don't have to believe me but I hope yk that I was telling the truth. I wouldn't ever lie to u, cuz I actually care. I'm always here whenever u want to talk tho. Bye and see u tmr ig” Holding my breath, I rethink whether it was worth sending that. I know her well enough that whenever she's angry at someone, nothing good is going their way. I want to unsend it, the rush of uncertainty I'm getting is too much. What if she's laughing at my text right now, showing everyone and thinking of how much of a pathetic fool i'm acting like now? It's too late to go back though. Days, weeks even, pass by and still, no reply. I know for sure, she saw the text but I try to make myself believe that maybe she didn't see it. Maybe she forgot to answer back., or she's sleeping, or her phone died? It's becoming less and less likely though, as time goes by. I'm still holding on tightly to the thread of hope that we can become friends again. But it seems to me as if she doesn't care the slightest and has already moved on, as I watch her sit with a girl she once told me she hates with all her soul. I feel as though she needs me more than she thinks and she'll soon realize. But once again, I find myself questioning if it's really the other way around. Frequently, the good and precious memories we have made together, flood my head. I wonder how she's feeling right now, about all of this between her and I. Us hugging, texting, talking, laughing until our stomachs hurt. I wonder if it will ever be like that again, and if it could, will she let it, will she give our friendship another chance? It's her choice since I know very well that I'd run straight back to her the moment she allows it. It's always on and off with everyone i've ever met, I wonder when it will just stay on. It doesn't seem like too much to ask. I wonder when she'll come back to me, back in my life and we can be friends again, true friends since I never seem to be able to find or keep those. But for now, during our time apart that I'm not quite sure how long it will last or if it will ever even end... She needs to trust me. I'm telling the truth.

I lay on the hospital bed, while the cold wind buffets against the door, and the trees outside the back window shake so violently I can hear the branches crack through the thick pane of glass. But it's not the storm outside that is keeping me awake. It's the storm inside. The thought, the regrets, the memories. Francesco is still lying unconscious on the bed next to mine. And you're dead Zacharia; you, my best friend, are dead, and there's nothing I can do to bring you back. How could it happen? How could they murder you, right in front of my eyes? Why would they? Just because you were black? And, as I listen to the soothing bleeps and clicks of the hospital's machinery, it all comes back; all the memories. Sharp as the moonlit blade, overturning the morphine's dizziness. It started as a normal Saturday evening out with friends. We picked you up right after your long shift at the restaurant ended. You enjoyed working there. “It's my art,” you always said, smiling. “I can prepare a Heaven-worthy meal for the mortals”. And it also helped make ends meet for your family. “Next week it's my mother's birthday!” you said as soon as you got in the car. There was a certain glint in your eyes, the shiny energy of a million stars. “This time I want to impress her. It's her 50th birthday.” Francesco floored the accelerator, and the old Citrus jumped to life, letting out an unimpressive roar. “What do you want to buy her?” He asked. “I still don't know. I've been putting away all my savings for the last eight months. It has to be memorable, you know? We couldn't afford a decent present for the last five years.” “What about a robot vacuum cleaner?” I suggested. Bracing, cold air rushed in from the cracked windows, mussing up my hair, making me feel unstoppable. God, if I only knew. “It could be a nice idea. I'll talk about that to my sister.” And we dropped that conversation there. We were chatting and walking along via Pia to reach our favorite Pub when we heard the tires screech on the road, the loud thump of doors closing violently, some incomprehensible shouts. And then they were there before we could even make a move. “Il Branco” (The pack) as they are known in the city. All four of them, all bigger than us, all trained fighters. “Where are you going, rats?” They wanted to take revenge on Francesco for not paying them the money they had asked. One of them pushed him against a corner and started punching him. That's when you intervened. You threw your skinny body between those punches and your friend to defend him from getting mauled by those animals. And then you became their prey. They were raging with anger; incapable of grasping the strength and nobility of your soul. How dared a black son of immigrants stands in the way of four white, “strong”, Italian men? I could see the fury in their eyes, their deep desire to make other people suffer, and it was so inhumane that I felt completely terrified. The first punch landed on my face, throwing me to the ground. For a moment it felt like I was flying, and then – before I'd ever fallen – I vomited. The pavement was strangely warm to the touch, almost like a blanket, and for a bit, I couldn't think of anything else but the pain radiating from my head -- and then, the numbness spread all over my body as one of them repeatedly kicked me. Later on, the cops will ask me how much time I remained there, laying on the pavement, and I won't be able to answer them. All I know is that I was still on the ground, crouched in the fetal position when I heard it: your last cry. It was terrible. The physical pain was replaced by something far more raw. An agonizing sound that pulled at my insides, scarring my soul with sharp glass shards, making me want to stop existing. I stood up swaying, while the world around me pulsed slowly, like a giant heart. Shouts and screams filled the summer air, increasing the pain in my concussed head. As I staggered and stumbled over the pavement, barely avoiding another punch, I saw you. And I saw blood. You were in a pool of blood, unconscious, the clothes ripped off your tiny frame. I almost blacked out then. All I remember is the expression of pain in your eyes – the faith you had in humanity shattered by a pack of monsters. And I can't tell if I imagined it or not, but there was also a tiny glint of light and hope in those eyes, something unbreakable -- the last remainder of that million stars' energy. Maybe it was the light of someone who knows he lived and died as a hero. Thomas Edison's last words were: “It's very beautiful over there.” I don't know where it is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I'm sure it's beautiful. Note: I changed all the names for privacy concerns. As I finish writing this story, I can't stop crying. My keyboard is full of tears, but writing helped me unburden some of the pain. If you're looking at me, Zacharia, just know that I love you. Rest in peace, Angel. (20/10/1999–06/09/2020).

I love to write but coming with the idea of what to write is main reason of my procrastination. Finally I thought to write about friendship which is one of the very very important part of life. Friends are that awesome characters who fills our life with color and love with their stupidity, their advice which comes from nowhere on this earth, but one thing is for sure; they are the best supporters that you can ever have. I'm basically a introvert and have very few numbers of friend and I never felt that I need others. But this is life, new people enter, and some old people exit with various circumstances that we may not be aware of. Like that a new person entered my life- a friend with different timezone. During this quarantine and lock-down I was mentally frustrated. Things were not going as aspected and being confined in a house for more than two much is really tragic. Social medias were only options to stay connected. In that phase I met a stranger online which later changed into my friend. He was from Canada and I am from Asia so there used to be huge time difference. We used to manage some time for each-other. Sharing the daily routine, knowing each-others likes and dislikes, sharing the happy and sad moments or events were kinda things we used to do. He used to help me and give various suggestion to cheer me up whenever I used to feel low. I was fan of his smile and to see that smile I used to tell different jokes and try to make him laugh. I was fond of action movies while he was fond of comedy and drama genre; sharing those movies and watching them in Sundays and giving opinion on them were our favorite thing to do. And we had also made plans to meet each-other when this pandemic gets over. But as we know good things does not last forever. I don't know what was the reason lately we have been talking less. I always remember the song for this "we don't talk anymore like we used to do". I miss him and message him sometime but don't know may be because of difference in time-zone and may be some miscellaneous factor the conversation does not happen as it used to be. All I wanna say is Dear Friend, I really miss you. :)

It's the 3rd of February, the world's at its best pace. I'm on my terrace, walking, thinking, dreaming. The sky looks beautiful in its deep blue. The orange sun is yet to set. I start browsing, I witness a myriad of vacant rooftops and just one or two human figures, either in search for a dependable cell phone network or peace. I come here for the latter. My father is a social worker, he has devoted his life to service. While I was in school, I wouldn't see him for days, even if he was still in town, by the time he'd come I was mostly asleep and by the time he was up, I was in school. My sister is completing her studies in a different state, I don't even remember the last time I talked to her for more than five minutes. My mother is a homemaker, but she's  barely home probably because she's a "social person" and when she is home, I either have an assignment to complete or some place to visit. It's been ages since I've had a proper conversation with any of them, or since the four of us sat together talking about the good times and amusing. My family is just one of the thousands of things that pop up in my head while I'm up here. I walk further to the edge of the terrace, I bend slightly to get a peek of what's going on in the world below. I discover a bevy of kids playing soccer, people wrapping up their days, cars honking moving around in a rush, a couple walking hand in hand, a small time grocer trying to desperately sell literally everything he has to a single customer. I see the kids again, this time half of them celebrating their victory by hugging each other and laughing in delight. Besides them, I see two women, probably neighbors, fighting and abusing each other with complete vigor. One of them is now looking  skywards and yelling some terrible words, I wonder who she's shouting at, there's nobody up here except me. Oops, I better get back to my walk. So basically today looks just like any other day! Now let's fast forward a little to when a pandemic took over our lives and everything just flipped. It's the 26th of march today. A few days back our Prime Minister announced a complete lockdown in our country. I still come up here, on the terrace, but it's an entirely different sight nowadays. The sky is still in its deep blue, I still hear noises, but this time not of the cars honking, today I hear the sounds of humans, a lot of humans, to be fair. The rooftops that once never showed signs of life, now look like a carnival, only a socially distanced one though. On any other day I would've been slightly disconcerted by the fact that the only place I turned to for peace had transformed into some kind of playground filled with people. But not today, and to be honest I actually feel delighted, because I don't just see individuals, I see families, families that have probably laughed together for the first time since ages, families that have conversed with each other as a whole, families that held hands like there's no tomorrow. Even I am not alone today, I'm walking alongside my father, talking about things we never thought we'd ever talk about, discovering interests, we never knew we had in common, exploring my plans for the future that I never thought would fascinate him. A few feet apart, I see my sister and my mother sitting together and laughing about how terrible my sister had cooked last night, and surfing for new recipes on the internet for my father who's next in line to cook dinner, and it's not just the four of us, I see joy and happiness all around me. Funny, isn't it? The times that are the hardest, are the times I am surrounded only by felicity.  My father went and sat next to the mother-daughter duo, gesturing me to join, I tell him I'll be there in a minute. I would've just gone and sat with my family, but I'm so amused by looking at everything around me, that I was tempted to uncover this new world. I see a young couple teaching their toddlers badminton, I see a mother teaching her kid to ride a bicycle next to her husband who was listening to his daughter explain some features about the laptop, I also see the neighbors who once used to come to blows quite often, today sit on their respective balconies, chattering. I smile to myself and go sit with my family. People feel that the pandemic somehow forced families and individuals to come closer, but I feel that the pandemic just gave us a reason to pause and reflect. We'd all been so worried and in such a rush to get the best of our lives that we missed savoring the most beautiful moments. The pandemic, let us stop for a moment and breathe, it let us contemplate, realize and understand all those pieces that we had missed in these hasty lives of ours. I'd once read "Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours." This pandemic made us reach out and hold one's hand as well as let our hands to be held.

I never thought I would be the kind of person who stares at her bedroom ceiling at one in the morning, listening to songs that remind her of someone who broke her heart. The kind of person who replays the worst moments in her life as if they were scenes in her favourite movie. The kind of person who looks back and counts all the warning signs, wondering how she didn't see them. I guess I've just never been good at noticing foreshadowing. Last June, when I was sixteen, I realized my best friend had a crush on me. “Do you ever just want to kiss one of your friends but worry that it would ruin your friendship?” she asked. I don't remember what we had been talking about. But I told her yes, without even thinking. I repeated that moment in my head a million times over the next week, and somehow, I worked up the courage to ask her about it. It was a hot day, and we were sitting in her cluttered beige kitchen after school. She sat in silence while I talked. I don't remember what I said, but I remember her quietly replying, “I guess it's pretty obvious, huh?” I remember looking back on that moment with a rosy filter, remembering fondly how romantic the comment had been. Now, looking back, I see it as avoidant. Vague. I bristle at the idea that she wasn't even willing to say the words out loud. How hard is it to say, “I like you”? Did my efforts mean nothing to her? By the end of the conversation, I had promised her that no matter what happened between us, I wouldn't let anything ruin our friendship. We both jumped when her parents suddenly came home. Looking back, that should've been the first warning. She didn't want her parents to find out about us. She made me promise not to tell anyone, she said that none of our friends could know. When we flirted over the summer, it was in secret. When we kissed in October, I couldn't tell anyone. I don't know how my heart was so full, so caught up in a romance that felt more like a rose-tinted indie film than real life. I followed all of her rules. I convinced myself that it was different when she broke them. Halloween fell on a Thursday that year. That was the day that she told me that we needed to take a break, that we couldn't be together anymore. She built her story out of vague comments. Her parents had said something about us, she was scared they were getting suspicious, so scared they would find out. She turned on the TV and we sat in silence until her mom came home. The room was dark, and the light of the TV illuminated their faces. I was sweating in my costume, nauseous and trying to stomach down dinner, trying not to cry. Trying to understand how she could pretend that everything was fine, chatting and laughing with her mom as if I wasn't even there. I barely remember going home. I know I cried for the rest of the night. I know I didn't go to school the next day. I know she never texted me. I know I was never in love with her. But as it turns out, someone can still break your heart, even if if you were never in love. Turns out, when your friendship of seven years starts pulling apart at the seams, it hurts. And it hurts when the realization hits you too late. When all those little warnings, all those moments of foreshadowing, fall into place. I followed all of her rules, even when she broke them. I stayed up until three in the morning with her, trying to convince her that she was a good person and trying to fix her problems. I smiled sympathetically when she made comments that were thinly veiled pleas for attention. I brushed off dozens of apologies that were really some reason to be sorry for her. I don't how I didn't notice it before. I spent so much time defending her, telling myself it was different than it actually was. But when was the last time she made me feel better? Made something hurt less? I thought that we could still be friends. I really meant it, when I promised we would always be friends. But now I've realized that she's the kind of person who makes you choose between her and your other friends. The kind of person who's only interested if the conversation's about her. The kind of person who will sit on her phone instead of talking to you. The kind of person will ignore your texts. The kind of person who makes self-deprecating comments because she wants to be told that she's better than that. The kind of person who's judgemental and harsh in her honesty. The kind of person who's avoidant and apathetic. After seven years of friendship, I've realized that she's the kind of person I don't want to be friends with. But I'll smile and laugh when my friends say we'd make a cute couple. And I'll stare at my bedroom ceiling at night, listening to music that makes me even angrier. I'll keep replaying this awful movie. I'll pretend she didn't break my heart. I'll pretend I still want to be friends. I'll pretend everything's fine.

Now a disease is raging in the world, which has taken many lives with it. Before quarantine I made friends with a new girl in my class. She was beautiful, unusual, she was bright and amazing as a black sheep. Quarantine has been announced. I was bored and also felt blue , because I couldn't get along with twins. But..... One day I got a text message from my friend. I was surprised, she did not write me for a long , probably two weeks. However, she did not give me an explanation for such a long absense. It turns out that I have to complete five tasks that she wants. I agreed. At first message she said me that I should read " Little women" by Louise May Alcott. At first I didn't want to, I thought why should I read an old book, but then.... It turns out that my friend is very much like Jo, but she is more festrained. In my opinion , she also has the quality of Meg and Amy, especially Beth. I even remembered the quote :" When you feel unhappy think about what you have and be gfateful for it". But I understood the meaning of this words much later. The second assignment required me to watch Japanese anime " Grave of the fireflies". In order not to offend my friend I watched. After watching , I couldn't stop the tears. Probably, this wonderful cartoon opened the way of animation and the world of Hayao Miyazaki to me. Once it was announced that we will study at a distance , that is at home. Arter this announcement the third task came immediately " Learn to solve logatithms". I was having big problems with math. I couldn't figure out how to dolve logarithmic equations. But my friend.... She perfectly explained this topic to me , even with SMS. My friend... She did not answer the phone , even her parents ignored my calls, because of this I was very worried. When I asked why she wasn't answering my calls , she just changed the subject. But I knew that something was wrong with her. The fourth task came in which it was said that I should get along with the twins. Well, I thought it was impossible. Finding a common language with the little sisters was a real torment for me. They were capricious, cried a lot and threw their LEGO everywhere. Of course, my friend sent me "Step -by -step instructions" and it helped me to get along with them. I waited three days for the last task. This assignment was sent as a package. Opening the box, I found watercolors and brushes. She wanted me to learn how to paint with watercolors. It was difficult for me, because I drew only with pencils. My friend didn't answer me. I called her non-stop, but it was all in vain. But once her father answered me and said.... I couldn't believe it. How could this happen? Eventually, during the quarantine I learned to read the world classics, during the quarantine I opened the world of Hayao Miyazaki, I learned to solve logarithmic equations , I was able to get along with my sisters..... During the quarantine I lost my best friend. My blue-eyed friend suffered from endocardial fibroelastosis, which made her a target for the coronavirus. I would like to thank her for opening up a new world for me. Zarifa( Tooth fairy)

I had my first best friend when I was in preschool. We were as thick as thieves, so it made sense when we went to the same junior school. She left just before fourth grade when her family relocated to South Africa. I was sad, as one would be after four amazing years of friendship had been cut short. Fourth grade a new girl game to our school and she became my new best friend, until she decided to join the cool girl squad. That was the first heartbreak I experienced in my life. Fifth grade brought yet another new girl, and yet again she became my new best friend. I experienced my second heartbreak when she left me for the cool girls. That was when I decided I would never have a best friend again. It hurt too much when they left. High school I had a few friends but we drifted apart when we graduated. I became a bit of a loner, until college came along. I went to a foreign country, where I was somewhat of a celebrity. I was the only person there from my country, so everyone was fascinated with me. In spite of all the attention, I found myself with just acquaintances and no true friends. Even though I didn't want to admit it, I was yearning for true friendship and companionship. The last time I had really felt connected to another human being who wasn't a part of my family was when I was in junior school. Surrounded by people, I found myself alone and lonely. Second semester I was allocated a roommate who was from the same country as me. I didn't know how to feel about someone else from home, but my worries were soon put to rest. Tina and I got along splendidly. She was like an extension of myself. She understood me, and sometimes we would say the same thing at the same time. I'd finally found a friend and I was just ecstatic. When we started second year, Tina went to school before me. When I arrived, she had made friends with two guys who were a year below us. I was a bit sceptical about the guys. They were spending a lot of time with Tina and I didn't like it. I had finally found myself a real friend and these guys were threatening to ruin my happiness. I know I was being childish, but I told myself two is company but four is a mob. What I didn't expect was me warming up to the two guys, Gavin and Peter. They were always joking around and laughing, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing along. I found myself looking forward to their visits and actually enjoying their company. We were all alike yet so different. Gavin was the goofball, the one you could always rely on, while Peter was the lady's man who was surprisingly very sweet. Tina was the social bunny, easy to talk to at a party, and then there was me, the quiet but sarcastic one. In spite of the differences, it felt like I had known them in a previous life. We became a squad, a crew, a tribe, but above all, we became a family. I met Tina, Peter and Gavin a little over three years ago, and we are still friends to date. My sister always says they are my best friends, but I always say I don't do best friends. I won't admit it to her, but I found not one, but three best friends. The broken heart I didn't realise I was nursing for more than ten years was finally healed when I met my three friends. Thanks to our friendship, I have been able to open up to other people and actually let them in to my life. I can say with confidence my friendship with my three best friends has brought growth for me. I have learnt to trust again, and to just take a leap of faith when meeting new people. I now have a healthy number of friends, and even a guy I am seeing. Right now the world is resting, and we are all at home in different countries, but for the four of us it is as if we are in the same place. We do not talk daily, we don't even talk weekly, but whenever we do, it's as if we never stopped talking. Gavin messages me to discuss novels we've recently read, or to review stories we've written. Peter is less available on social media, but he always makes an effort to call at least once per week or fortnight. Whenever I receive a text from Tina, I know something saucy has happened, and a juicy story is coming my way. Three years ago I met three total strangers who brought light into my life. They showed me that I can cope on my own, but having companionship can make life's moments more fulfilling. We have become friends, kindred spirits that have a way of always finding each other.