Dandelion

19th August 2019

This city looks so beautiful when the ball of fire melts over it. Blowing out the last smoke, I crushed the cigarette with my shoes. The weather is so pleasant at this time of year in Florina. The wind, messing with my hair as my eyes refused to tear away from the beautiful view visible from the terrace of my office. The terrace of my office should be the last place to offer me this much solace. "Sara, it's time to leave", Neil called as he opened the old rusty metal door.

"Beautiful weather isn't it" I smiled at him, I remembered how he came up to me with this job. He had been with me since the second grade. He was my senior at school. Being two years older than me, he always helped me in school. Whenever things were going down at home, I used to go to his place as he lived only two blocks away. He was my safe place and will always be.

"Indeed", I replied, untangling the mess, which was my hair. "Anyway, I will be waiting for you in the parking lot, will you please make sure if I locked my office or not?", he told me while tossing the bunch of keys towards me and then disappeared. Neil was a big gush of energy who is always in this unstoppable motion, sometimes it seemed like he had roller skates instead of human feet.

I started fishing the pockets of my wrinkled blazer in search of a mint, instead, I found a small envelope. When I saw that envelope, again, it felt like the world had stopped turning, again. My breath slowed down, my lungs fidgeting as if they were sucked out of air. My fingers were shaking terribly as I traced the words written in the right corner.

"From National intelligence security (NIS-EYP)"

As the car slowed down, I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. I stepped out of it while gathering my shattered self. "You don't have to think about it right now", Neil said before turning back the engine and sped up against the gravel disappearing into the cloud of dust. I turned to face my home, I could see my dad carrying a 6-year-old me on his shoulder while my mother was filling a small colorful tub with water, I could hear the giggles, the full laughs. I could smell the drinks which my mother used to make for us in summer and the flowers that used to paint our garden. I could listen to the chirping of birds and insects. But now, I was looking at the skeleton of my childhood home, there were no flowers to add the colors but only an old iron swing that my father bought when I was 12. I could still hear the chirping of insects but the squeaks of the old swing killed it now. I walked up to the front door taking in a quick deep breath before opening it. I went up to the kitchen to see my mother but she wasn't there. I took a sigh of relief but felt enormously guilty about it. Grabbing a bottle, I started to go to my room upstairs, when I saw my mother sitting on the sofa reading her book. She looked at me from behind her glasses and her lips curled into something resembling to a smile. A bleak, pale smile. She looks so weak sometimes I wondered how her face was holding her glasses. Aging is indeed a brutal reality. I went for a quick hug, stealing some seconds from her so that she wouldn't read me and went upstairs. It was just me and my mother now in this shell of a house.

Sitting at my desk and staring at the screen blankly, with my pending tasks burning holes in my head, boring me by merely being there. Hacking can be tiring sometimes, because of all the never-ending codes one has to go through to understand a cyberattack. It was pretty mundane what I did at work. Sometimes to annoy Neil, I forged a cyberattack on our company's portal which used to bring the whole system down but most of my colleagues didn't complain because they didn't mind a break. Whereas, Neil and other supervisors at my office didn't fire me because I was good at what I did or at least Amanda said that. This was the most fun I could draw out of this nine to five desk job.

My fingers danced across the keyboard in anticipation of finishing the task sooner. "Papa, what are you doing up this late" I rubbed my eye as the lamp from his desk was blinding me. "Just doing my homework, sweetheart". I walked up to him in my white frock with yellow dots and sat on his lap while he continued to type on his computer. I listened to the clicking of keys as if it were some kind of melody. I remember sitting on his lap and waking up in my room at the screams coming from the parents' room.

A red error sign flashed on my screen, snapping me back "oh god", I slammed my head on the desk. The screams were swirling in my mind like a rigid untameable tornado. I washed my face and looked in the mirror as if commanding myself to hold it together. Looking into my bloodshot eyes I saw memories climbing like ivy on the walls of my mind, penetrating through the cracks of the grip I have prolonged for all these years. Memories that were clawing their way back to grab my throat.

The envelope flashed in my mind. "Why would they send me a letter?" My hostile mind wasn't ready for what might have written inside this frail piece of paper. I sat back on my desk to complete my task. Instead, I opened the drawer to stare at the envelope, my shaky hands held it and with a long audacious breath, I opened it. Interrupting my bold attempt, my phone blared across my ghost quiet room. Dropping the envelope immediately, I answered it with a quivering voice, "Hello".

"Hi Sara it's Greg", I hung up.