To the boy in the sequined mask:
I am looking for you. Everyone knows it. You are the pomegranates guy. The one who stood me up on the day of my sister-in-law’s mehndi when I sat all night at the swing with the lilac glow but you never showed.
I’d like to ask you why you did that. Just so I know, you know?
After that? Maybe love or maybe revenge. One or the other, I should think. Definitely. Or there might exist other alternatives, and reasonable, too, though I have never been one to discount the possibility of the unreasonable.
I do not have much to go on in my search. A private investigator told me that. His name was Harry and he called himself a tracker, presumably because he lacked the proper licenses to call himself anything else.
Still I believe Harry the Tracker was correct.
The pertinent facts, as we have reconstructed them, are as follows:
1. You (the boy in the sequined mask) were present at a certain named Desi event hall at 2 pm on Saturday, August 20th;2. You had eyes changed by something you’d seen. A burning bush, perhaps, or a four-headed angel with a flaming sword. Something along those lines;3. Your accent was soaked in Islamabad, though you worked hard to hide it; and finally,4. You wore a silver sequined mask.
This is not a lot to go on. Yet it is more to go on than many dreams have at their start.
I have a plan.