By Sofia Jesus

Over the rooftops he flew. Looking down at houses and trees and sorrow.

He took a leap of faith out of his bedroom window and let the wind pull him up. Gently. Warmly. Yet inexorably.

Words floated around him, carried by misty whispers. Macau. Nobody. Everybody.

Colours down there seemed brighter the higher he levitated. White. Pink. Blue.

As Lilau Square slid away bellow his feet, so did her and all the cookies-with-jam and the silence.

As clouds approached him — sweet and fierce at the same time — so did himself. Free. Light. Yet lonely.

Liquids defied gravity. His tears hovering over his head. The water from the fountain tracking him up.

Yesterday’s rain.

Over the rooftops he flew. Until someone knocked on a door he could not see.

He woke up sweating; thirsty. “Tea, my dear?”


Note: This is fiction.