[story] Crochet of a Heart String

lazers. lazers everywhere. on the ground. green, red, invisible lazers shoot up from the crack of the road, putting the life of homeless people in peril. if you ask me, i say they are the most secretive people on earth, more than donald trump, or oil kings in saudi arabia. in black and white we walk in night of new york city. in night time of other colors, the heart string, red string pulling my heart to places. dragging me, across the other end of globe. is that what many refer to as the purpose? when i thought i was a kid, i was too afraid to sleep alone, not even during summer. my eyes were wide open, when the world goes dark in the absence of light, escaping from the scrutiny of whoever was in charge. the string, it could open the door of my bedroom. my mom closed it again. “can i have the door open just a crack?” i asked my dad. he nodded. because the heart string is brittler than full moon, tonight, we go to a birth day party. in a quiet of awkward everyone spoke up, like fish out of water, gasping for air. the cake is to be consumed, heart dissect by the hungry beautiful human beings. in an ecstacy of laughter, we murder the candle light. on the counter, he stands and asks in his broken english, “anyone, icecream? my treat!” no one responded. “ice cream on me, anyone?” he asked again, heart to heart, she, a girl in black down jacket, shivers in chills of the most desolate land on earth. you know what she needs, i thought, a sweater of that invisible heart string.