The metallic feel of the mobile stung me when I wrapped my fingers around it, so that I instinctively let go – in those few minutes (I estimated), I had become a stranger to what had until then been a daily necessity to me. And then I realized what I did, and, letting out a wail, I dug deeper to reclaim it, this time really crying, as though letting go a moment ago could render it gone the next.
I can’t begin to describe the feelings I had when I got hold of my mobile a second time, the inanimate object trembling with news of connection to my original world: was I elated? Was I touched? Was I even frightened? A mixture of all that, I am sure. Most likely, though, the one thing that overwhelmed all the other feelings was hope – hope of being rescued from this unreasonable darkness, hope of finally escaping a forced isolation from the material world, one that even Robinson Crusoe would have find hard to survive.
Tears streamed down my cheeks when I saw the blinking screen on my mobile – the first hint of light after an extended pain of darkness. More importantly, the icon that indicated I had an unread message gripped my heart so that I again wailed uncontrollably, while my trembling hands struggled to press the right buttons that would retrieve my only hope:
Gonna be late – bloody bus late. Tell the girls I’ll be there soon. (Wink)
It was one of those typically irresponsible messages from Jae, one that I got all the time and that often annoyed me. This time, though, a sense of comfort and familiarity gripped me and I had to cry even harder, while affording chuckles in between over this dude I probably could call my best friend.