The Echo of Dreams

Happy Birthday, Rihan!

I scrolled the arrow, another virtual birthday wish plastered on my social media wall. A hollow like from a cheap drum echoed in my chest. Friends, connected, yet miles apart. Celebration, a distant memory shrouded by the blue glow of the screen. Just as I was about to shut down, a notification blinked on the corner. Another message.

Then I read it.

Happy Birthday, writer!

The words stabbed. My gaze locked; body frozen. Broken dreams prickle deeper than shattered glass, and with each passing tick of the clock, the weight of that word pressed heavier. I tried to pry my eyes away, but a morbid fascination held them captive. Seconds stretched to minutes, the screen finally surrendering to the power saver, fading to black. A single tap could reignite it, but the thought repelled me. Like a thief fleeing the scene, I bolted up, leaving the graveyard of my aspirations behind.

The cool evening air whispered a lullaby, momentarily calming the storm within. Aimlessly, I wandered towards the market square. A hurried figure bumped into me, a muttered apology the only exchange before he vanished back into the crowd. A fleeting thought – would our paths ever cross again? But logic scoffed.

Writer!

The word echoed in the caverns of my mind. Drawn by an invisible thread, I found myself before a small, familiar bookstore. The chime above the door announced my arrival as I pushed it open. The fragrance of aged paper and wood swirled around me. The shopkeeper, his eyes clouded with age, peered at me with a flicker of recognition. "Rihan? Long time."

A ghost of a smile crept onto my lips.

"New books have arrived," he rasped, gesturing towards the towering shelves.

I nodded, a leaden weight settling in my gut. Once, these very shelves whispered possibilities, each novel a silent challenge – "You can do better." Now, they loomed like accusing giants, mocking my failures. My fingers grazed a worn spine, my favorite book. Flipping through the pages, the words seemed to sneer. A dam broke within me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I couldn't stop the tear that splashed onto the open page, blurring a single word on the page: Dream.

The chime above the door announced a new arrival, shattering the silence. With a sigh, I replaced the book and turned to leave.

Dream.

An ember flickered within me, a spark of defiance.

 Dream.

With each step towards the door, the feeling grew, a familiar yet forgotten friend.

Dream.

I burst through the door, the bell clanging, and a truth, long buried, resurfaced. The missing piece.

In that moment, a decision ignited.