That Moment of Time

A piece of fiction long in the pipeline, inspired by Chinese food and great company.

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She stood there just a moment longer, letting the wind flirt with her hair, breathing in the fresh breeze that wafted through the trees. Her stomach was threatening to burst with an overdose of good food, the result of an impromptu Chinese meal with a friend. Just as they climbed onto the bus, the winds kicked in, throwing up swirls of dust and sand into the air. As people rushed for cover, protecting their eyes and face from the onslaught, she stood. Still. Silent.

She missed moments like these, when all that mattered was that one moment; not the next, not the one past but instead, just that fragment of time when all that was true was the now. She had earphones plugged in, strains of instrumental harmony flooding her body. Her fingers were unconsciously snapping to the rhythm, her lips humming the tune that had kept her company through many lonely hours. The trees rustled, swayed, bent scarily close to the ground. The metal sheets cordoning off a construction zone clanged with the winds, threatening to fall inches away from where she stood that very minute. She kept a watchful eye open, just because that is what grandmother’s tales would advice but none of it mattered just then.

She stared up into the skies, unmindful of the dust in her tangled hair, and marvelled at the patterns the clouds were colliding to form. She swirled slowly once, breathing in every little detail – the sounds of the monkeys as they hurried to the security of dry land and shelter, the voices of irritated students complaining about plans foiled and inconveniences caused, the concerned call of the guard asking the girls to stay safe, take care and be careful.

In that one moment, she felt like the world had frozen around her, like she had encapsulated time. Somewhere between the frantic jugglery of meetings, appointments and deadlines, she had found that sweet spot. As the winds howled with newfound rage and the fat drops of the first rainfall began to hit the ground, she sighed.

The moment had passed. There were things to do and people to meet, questions to ask and reports to write. She had to leave, drag herself into the confines of four walls and grapple with slow internet connections and incomprehensible jargon.

The moment had passed. As the rain fell and the winds blew, she looked out of the window. She was meant to think about the joys of getting wet yet, she found herself worrying about navigating muddy roads and stagnated water.

The moment had passed. She smiled at the recollection, promising to write about it soon and went on to do what had to be done.