Little Black Books
Her hands, withered yet supple handed me the little black books. I found her speaking with a voice roughened with wisdom, repeating the same words I'd heard last in a voice much flintier than hers, "Sky is the limit, Barfi. He taught your mother this. You must inherit it." Aware of everything the books cloaked, anxiety also misted over me knowing I'll be taking them away from whom they've always belonged to, the sky it belonged beneath. I could feel myself sinking into a conundrum by each second as I touched the wilting leather hardback of the diary that held his entire life. "What if I can't crack it?", shilly-shallying my indecisiveness as always. The bleak moment I saw her smile sardonically like never before, I felt a menial catastrophe that slight action instigated enveloping me. "Must you be so distrusting of yourself? You're quite like him in a way." Thrown back by her words, I failed to understand if my behaviour, and more...