Another bus slows to a stop with its dirty tires catching Dylan’s eye. People spill out of it, eager to meet their loved ones or head to wherever they intend to go. Most of the buses share this feature of large, dirty tires that could easily crush a rib cage if someone accidentally comes under them. Dylan spots further similarity.
Even though they may have different colors yet the rusting pain is the same, Dylan thinks to himself. He also thinks of how everything can be so expensive. It is better to let the paint chip away than to get it refreshed. But there are certain matters of life and death that cannot be ignored. Times like that bargain bitter trades, trades that can heavier than what the soul can bear.
Despite the wisdom of his thoughts, Dylan seemed to be taking no advice for himself though. A slow but now familiar hollow grew in his heart. He could feel it enveloping his beating heart, bottling away all that was. Some trades are needed, that’s all he thought. He didn’t feel anything though.
Another bus rolls to a stop. The narrow door of the bus opens to spit out tired faces. A familiar face pops out, looking a bit disoriented, as though it just shook itself awake. That is very much like my brother, Dylan thinks. Since working at the factories, Ryan catches forty winks whenever he gets a free slot in his busy, tiresome schedule. Supposedly, he did the same on his trip to home too.
The brother’s eyes meet. Both still for a second and then move to meet and greet each other. Ryan looks like the shadow of the person he used to be. Nearly as tall as Dylan but shoulders slightly hunched, as though, they felt the weight of his responsibility. Dark, sleepless circles haunt the area under his eyes and his cheeks are sunken; almost non-existent. His lips are chapped and dry. A draught of water, as he explains at his workplace.
Ryan does most of the talking, as the brothers weave their way to their town. The buses land at the outskirts of the village so the boys have to walk a couple of paces. The outskirts of the village are not a safe place, Dylan reminds himself, as his eyes meet the old, giant oak tree. Ryan traces the line of his brother’s sight and a chuckle slips from his mouth.
Dylan looks at him wondering why a snicker made to his throat. Ryan replies without the question being asked, “Don’t you remember? We used to dare each other to go near that tree where the old man lived? We used to be scared but we still used to tease us, challenging who was brave and who was going to lose it and run the other way round with the fear.”
The blurry memory makes it to Dylan’s mind. He feels nothing and remembers none of the feelings he felt too. He remembers the fear beating fast in his heart but he can’t recall the happiness he felt when he pushed and played with his brother. He brushes the thought away in the name of a memory that has expired with age.
