Dusts in the Wind

The little girl saw a flower that day. A sunflower in full bloom, on the middle of the surrounding empty meadow. With her, a stranger.

“Do you want it?” the stranger asked. “Oh, but you can’t have it.”

The stranger, in his mid-30’s, sported an undersized hat covered with figures of Doraemon. “Because I want it.”

He was a man who talked slowly, pausing every other syllable. He would stop, think, and slur his speech — it irritated the little girl at first, but no more.

The little girl sighed. “I don’t care,” she said, running her fingers through her long, dirty blonde strands. “I want to see how they’re doing.”

“Who?”

“Them. My family. Who else?”

“I can’t take you there,” he said apologetically. “I don’t know how. Well, maybe if we have a map that can take us anywhere. Do you have a map?”

She crouched down and gently, easily, cupped the head of the sunflower. She looked through its brown, upright face, waiting to be examined. “Here, here,” she said, “right here, in here.” He, too, crouched down,

and saw nothing.

“Huh?” he asked. “Huh? Huh? Huh?”

The little girl laughed, and laughed, and laughed, uproariously dropping her quickly detaching jaw. Nothing hurt. She looked through. “Look, I see them,” she said, smiling wide. “They’re happy. All happy. Look!” she paused. And -

He, for a brief moment, moved his body like a rotten corpse. He surmised, “That’s too bad. You have the cake and you’re not eating it. Too bad!”

She frowned.

The bee,

and the flower?

The stranger clapped. “So that’s why we met,” he said, “nobody wants us!”

She was a rolling wheel, down the hill.

“Why are they happy if they were frowning?”

He was a corpse again. He forced his mouth to smile with his long, bony fingers.

“Smile, smile,” he bobbed his head right ways and left ways, “it’s not that bad, innit?”

“Is it?” she said.

The bee and the boy sat down near the sunflower

and disappeared

like dusts in the wind.