the last sight.

by Clem Onojeghuo

The sunrise is about to come and we are on our usual spot to watch it. The rooftop of the condominium where we live is isolated at these hours and will only be crowded by the laundrymen at around noon. For now, the place is our cocoon.

Stella asked me to meet her today to tell me about the result of her eye check-up. She has been having headaches and her vision has started to blur, but she keeps on telling me to leave it be. She’ll just be fine, she reassures.

I arrived first and waited for her. There were skips on her steps, and I took it as a good sign. She did not tell me what her doctor said at first. She greeted me with her latest gossip on her workplace. I tried to stay on the topic, but she knew it bothered me.

We share a pair of binoculars and take turns to look at the urban scenery from the rooftop. I hand it over to her and she grips it. I ask her again about her visit yesterday. She winks at me, and presses her eyes on the binoculars. You’re a great storyteller, Marcus, she says. You have a way with words. When I lose the sight, I want you to take me here and describe to me what you see.

The sunrise becomes a stale interest. I clutch the handrail and watch Stella try to wear a smile as she holds onto the binoculars for what seems her last sight.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.


let me hold your words before you leave;

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