Chapter 62:

LXII | Remorse

The Rowan Tree


A tap on the shoulder.
A shake.
A gruff voice,
'Oi! Boy!'

I open my eyes.

The taxi has stopped.

The driver
is not in his seat.

He's pulled my door,
gesturing me to leave.

I blink.

The clouds are slightly blue.

Morning?

'The bird stopped liao.
'Faster, go!'

A shooing motion.
(As if i'm the bird.)

I take out my wallet.

'How much?'

He waves me away.

'Dunnit. Dunnit.
'Paid already.'

As soon as I
get off
the taxi,
he closes the door,

gets behind the steering wheel,
drives away.

'Who paid?'
the parrot asks.

And I realise,
the idiot bird
brought me to my apartment.

'Where's Rowan?'
I demand.

The parrot preens its feathers.

No reply.

A stray cat walks by.

This is it then.
Just like Ria.

She's gone.

But Rowan's not like Ria.
She's different.

She's annoying
—but she's different.

Now she's gone.

This is worse than people just dying.
At least with death,

the memories,
the possessions,

every trace of
the person,
is burned away over time.

But Rowan,
and Ria,

they crawl under my skin
and take root there

like parasites.

By the time you realise,
and you want to scrap them off,
you can't.

They're a part of you
like a wound

that hurts

with every touch.

[Read the full story at novelconbini.com!]