16 October 2016

The boy in the sequined mask

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. 


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