The God of Small Things


As I walked into the coffee shop, I got glimpse of Phillip, comfortably perched at a small table facing the window. He was reading a book, occasionally setting it down to take a bite of his blueberry muffin. Finally, he gazed up and met my eye. He smiled and waved towards me. "Right on time" he says. "I hope you don't mind, I picked the table with the best lighting". "Not at all" I encouraged.

About ten minutes after I ordered my food, the waitress finally set my plate down in front of me. I ordered a roasted tomato mozzarella panini on toasted pita bread. In case I got extra hungry, I also purchased a bag if sea salt potato chips. "I'm glad you asked me to lunch Colette" Phillip murmured. "Since my sister died, I haven't really spent any quality time with friends". "I understand Phillip. I'm glad you decided to join me!" I took a deep breath and prepared the words I spoke next. "Your sister is actually what I wanted to talk about. Forgive me if I sound inconsiderate, but do you think Hanani is still with us?" Uncomfortable silence fell upon us. "I suppose, in theory, her spirit has the potential to still loom around". His smile faded and he glanced out the window, towards the now grey and ominous sky.

Before I got out another word, a sudden flash of lightening darted through the sky. It's spider like strands crept across the clouds, sending sparks in every direction. Suddenly, the atmosphere felt increasingly weary. "Weathers getting bad" Phillip sighed. "Better stars heading home before I get caught in a storm. I suggest you do the same". Without a proper goodbye, Phillip got up from the table and made his way out the door, a bell chimed as the door closed behind him. Another crash of lightening hurtled toward the ground, this time coming closer than the last. It was as if Zeus himself, watching from above, aimed them perfectly. As I grabbed my purse, I noticed Phillips book perched on the edge of the window pane. "Kafka on the Shore" it read, by a man maned Haruki Murakami. 

I picked it up and noticed a bright red bookmark peeking through the top of the book page. Intrigued, I opened the book to the page Phillip left off. One line in particular caught my eye immediately. "And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.” 

A chill sprang down my spine and I decided to head back for my apartment. As I walked back home, I stepped inside a puddle sprawled on the concrete and suddenly, as the thunder crashed down, everything went white. I could feel my nerves burning like fire, and as I tried to scream, nothing but  a muffled whisper came out. Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of me. A young girl crouched beside me and said "You don't belong here! One day, but not today. Before you go, please deliver this message. Tell him that I am ok. I've finally made peace". Before I had time to process what she meant, I woke. Laid out on the concrete, my vision blurred into the faces of many people huddled around me.