The Third Dimension (2023) #Wattys2024

4-1999

One bad day could change the whole ratio of time and visual limits. Whole world had been awaiting for the time to make him realize his values of the human relations. Jawad deeply breathed and walked towards the railing of the rooftop. Until, he mounted there, the world around it, looked bleak and an unfortunate future, coming up towards him or may be fortunate. The pressure of the society, indirectly haemorraged his mind that sucked into the nature of the unfinished parts of the world that he would eventually learn.

He jumped after the voices, hurting him.

It was high above and scarier than expected. Jawad was floating that cheered him up because he thought that all the sadness and depression around him fading away plus he would meet good times in heaven. When he fell off to the ground, everything went black. It was the body that had been gone into the thin air or in a floor that had a bed.

Jawad found himself sleeping in a soft cushion in the floor with a lot of comfort or peace. Until, he was snoring, a little boy was playing with a rubber ball and smiled at Jawad. He slowly woke up and looked at the crampled newspapers at which he had no memory of it. The blue wall paint, the boards which had a blackboard, full of cases and thesis of crime or maybe the newspaper of the serial killers.

The whole environment seemed different than what he had during his prime time as a teenager. The newspapers were scattered on the floor as well as the notes that surprised him. The only physical change he had was his tone and the wrinkle on his rough hands such of a regular, hard-working adult. He was quite silent as he wanted to absorb the time and pretend to have a little bit of a memory loss. Until, the year he saw in the newspaper, he was shocked and awed for the date that he wanted to look on.

1980- the year where government looked classy, on the contrary, the consparisy about drugs were coming out, especially phensedyl or else called it, narcotic drugs. VHS and other cassette covers, as well as the Knight Rider posters were hanged on the wall. Jawad smiled because it was an entertaining era where his father, Rahat used to talk about everytime. He looked at the little boy.

"Who are you?" asked Jawad.

The little boy looked shocked, as if he had a memory loss. Far more difference was a band-aid in his forehead and a dressing in his left hand. His leg was even dressed with the white bandage, that hurt him even more such as if the hot oil was burning to the pot. He looked all over the scattered places that made minor shambles towards his life because the major ones were just the beginning of the element. What are the time shifts for? Why do he have to go through all these? Are there things from his dreams that were testing something that he never found?

"Cousin, it's me Delwar" softly said the kid, Delwar.

Delwar called out his mother who rushed from the kitchen, just to see Jawad.

"Sohail, my nephew!? It's been four days!" exclaimed and wept The mother.

"But mom, he doesn't remember anything" said the kid Delwar.

"It's just an accident, he just needs the remember for a week, don't worry" said The mother.

Jawad, or else, call him Sohail in that dimension was more, older and experienced as a journalist of sorts but at the same time, a happy-go-lucky fellow, as the retro posters shown, hanging in the wall. By the time, we knew that the 80s were the classiest time of our country. Sohail looked at the mother properly, as that was familiar to him. The difference was that of Jawad's timeline, she looked to have a wrinkled forehead with a white hair but a kindly old lady, while in Sohail's timeline, she was slightly younger.

"Grand aunt!" he whispered.

"Hang on, boy, who are you calling grand aunt?" asked the mother with a doubt after overhearing his whisper.