Cry for Amir

To kausar

The sky was a tapestry of grays; the clouds heavy with unshed tears. Raindrops began to tattoo a steady rhythm against the windowpane, a prelude to the downpour that was about to unfold. The air was thick with the scent of petrichor, that earthy fragrance released when rain meets the parched ground. People scurried along the sidewalks, their umbrellas blooming like colorful flowers amidst the monochrome day. Puddles formed on the streets, rippling with each drop, and the world seemed to hush, listening to the soft, persistent whisper of the rain. It was his funeral. Overwhelmed by a storm of anxious thoughts, my legs felt rooted in place, an invisible force anchoring them to the ground, immobilizing each step before it could begin. It was a closed casket as it was described as a brutal accident. I think of my pain now as minor compared to what Amir might have felt while his life was being ripped out of him. Anxiety crept up like a shadow at dusk; I could barely breathe as I watched Amir's life of more than 20 years get summed up in 20 minutes. I had to get out of there. I didn't want to cause a scene as it was the princess's time to speak (Amir's sister). We have never seen eye to eye with her as arrogance was etched into her every move, a haughty tilt of the chin as she surveyed the world as though it were hers to command. Her smile was a curve of disdain; her laughter a melody that danced on the edge of mockery. Coming back home, I had no plans for the week except to cry until my sheets were soaked. Then, I heard a knock at the door. Reluctant to answer, but the person was persistent. I asked who it was, but no answer, so I stormed to the door and cracked it open. It was the princess, trying to look at every angle of the house from where she stood, so I asked her, "What can I do for you?" She answered, "Amir wanted you to have this. You left in a hurry, and I didn't get a chance to give it to you," as she handed me a box that said "To Kausar" and left. Typical princess, no condolence. I would have offered her mine if I didn't know her to cut me off midway, so why bother? The real question is why is she here, in person, but I didn't think too much of it, as all that was on my mind was to open the box and see what was so important that the princess had to bring it herself. I slammed the door, making sure the princess heard it or at least felt the breeze, I hope. "To Kausar," the box just sitting there. Looking at it, I couldn't stop thinking if a suicide note was inside or if it was filled with memories of me and Amir that the princess had packed up. But why would she go through the trouble of writing "to Kausar" unless she wrote something mean and wanted me to think it was from Amir? Only one way to find out, so I gathered the courage to open it. Inside, there was a letter, Polaroid pictures of Amir and me, some of his medals won in one sport or the other, and two of his journals. Opening the letter, I was convinced that it was from Amir after seeing the way the Rs' were written. So it read, "To Kausar, my friend, my confidant, if you are reading this, it is because I am no more, and I am sorry if you feel alone or abandoned. I leave you my medals to let you know that you are a champion. You encouraged me to stay on the track team even when I thought of quitting. I wouldn't have won these medals if not for your support and love. In the coming days, as you read these journals, there are things you may find out that will have you thinking of 'if, buts, and maybes,' but forgive me for my mistakes, as I am human. Love, Amir."