Tinadoo could not point if she had lost her sense of empathy or if this nonchalance attitude of hers towards death, was a coping mechanism to her sudden realisation of the nothingness that possessed the entity; Life.

This evening, at the house across her home, that house where she had been told to come as often as she pleased she held a pen to pad, unsure if her hands were too lazy to write or her brain was yet to feed it with what to, her mom yelled into the phone and without thought, she searched her mind for which extended relative was sick.

She hurried home and got the news of his sudden death! A close relative, No, he was not sick!
Exercise is a healthy practice, but when someone dies from exercise?

She went back to her pen and pad, she did not say much, she did not console her crying mother, she did not cry.

About a month ago, they had talked, they talked about real estate and residential plans, they talked about her business,
About family, his wife was almost due to have a third baby, actually, their fifth baby.
They talked about struggles,
So much sweat and hardly any handkerchiefs.

Today, she stares bleakly at the moon and wonders if this entity, Life, is a man, enthroned awaiting his crown; death.

© Aivee Cheku

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New Horizon Creatives is a caprecon international foundation advocacy and literacy program geared towards solving societal issues through art.

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