The sound of her mellifluous voice reaches deep into my body. I don’t know what it is about her voice. It’s like any other, like every other singer’s melody. But my intense desire to never part with it is surprisingly uncanny.
Every day, I come to school too early with the most unfortunate attitude. I do not look forward to anything. But when I am outside the almost empty classroom and am forced to stop right there just so she doesn’t stop singing, I adore that moment.
The first time it happened, the first time I heard her, I stepped into the classroom without even realizing the consequences. She stopped singing the moment she saw me. But every single day after that, I made sure that I remain a mere shadow. Nonexistent.
Sometimes, being invisible isn’t the worst thing. That is, if Samara Lyle is secretly conversing with the winds and you are cloaked among them. I have never talked to her, and the strangest thing is that I have no intention of doing that either. My nonexistence is the only thing that has somehow brought me this close to her. So I have vowed to remain absent as long as she keeps singing. She is my serenity when the shadows envelop me, my inadvertent comfort when I am in solitude. And if sitting in silence and seclusion is what it takes to hear her voice, I am never coming out.
– Rubani Kaur
Artwork Credit: Unknown