Prologue

Mokhoddis picked up the pace. He turned his head. The distant light from the town hall gave him a sense of warmth even though the warmth did not physically reach him. He looked ahead. “50 meters or so left” He calculated his distance until the end of the bridge. He felt his body moving, yet the end of the bridge only seemed to be growing more distant.

As it got deeper into the night, Mokhoddis felt the cold air biting into his lungs like a hound on a chase. It was silent. All he could hear was his stomps on the ground as his shoes made contact with the stone. His legs felt like they were dragging through a muddy basin. Occasionally, he would hear the chirp of a cricket. Was it alone in this unforgiving night? His vision became clouded. His footsteps became a blur as he swayed left and right. He fought with all his might to keep himself balanced. His throat became dry as the cold air rushed in. “Am I dying? Is this what death feels like?” Mokhoddis feared. “So after all this effort, that’s it? I’ll fall to the ground, dropping my painting into the river. The flow will take it downstream where some kids will find it and wonder where it came from. How about me? I’ll probably lay dead in this bridge until someone finds me tomorrow. Mom…Phet…Rubina…” His eyes slowly shut as the ground got closer and closer to his face, until he suddenly stopped. He wasn’t falling anymore. He was resting on something… no someone