The Kite

"Hey, hold up! You're walking too quickly. I'm a girl, remember?"

I slowed down my stride. Examining Hannah from top to bottom, from her jet black shoulder-length hair, down to her bare shoulders, to her hips, and finally to her sneakers with pink laces, I had to agree.

This was an activity I used to do with Grayson, my best friend. We would trek down to the nearby park and wait for the wind to blow, with our kites in our hands. This was something the two of us shared, something we started in our childhood and carried all the way up to our late teens.

Me, him, the kite, and the wind.

Without the wind, the kite can't fly. But without the kite, for what purpose does the wind blow? Somehow, that described our relationship. I'm not sure who is who. I'd prefer to be the kite, the thing that gets blown.

We're not gay, by the way. Just close friends. It's good to get things like this clear early on.

Hannah was the Grayson's girlfriend. She's my friend too. Actually, the three of us grew up together. We lived in different blocks, but we were within minutes from each other, and we shared the same playground.

Now that Grayson's gone, it's just me and Hannah.

"Okay, so when I say GO, toss the kite up high, and I'll run as fast as I can. Simple?"

"Got it!" Hannah shouted from a distance. The park was virtually deserted except for an elderly man sitting at a bench reading the newspapers. The string was in my hands. I waited for a moment when the wind would be strong.

"NOW!"

Hannah tossed the kite up into the blue sky. Not high, but high enough. I burst into a sprint. The kite followed me like a skybound shadow, like a guardian angel. I thought of the kite as Grayson. He's up in heaven right now, but like this kite, he's attached to me somehow, watching over.

The wind remained resilient and the string remained taut. Hannah sauntered up to me. She gave me a look as if to say "So, what now?"

"So, what now?"

"Pass me the scissors."

She took out the pair from her purse. About a month back, Grayson was stabbed in the backstreets of Manchester. He had gone there to fulfil his dreams of becoming some sort of philosopher person. I wonder what he'd think of all this now? While walking back to his dorm one particular night, a drunk approached him for money. Being the tough guy he is, he refused, and there was a struggle.

A hole was made in his body, and out of it, his spirit leaked out. I can imagine his body lying on the cold dark street. Blood oozes out from the stab wound. Like a balloon deflating in slow-motion.

"Grayson's the kite. And we're gonna cut him loose from our lives starting now." Grayson was a big fan of metaphors, and he would have loved what we were doing now.

"I really loved him, you know." Hannah said. Her tears were welling up now. I liked her for awhile, but it never worked out. Grayson edged me out.

"So did I." The wind was relentless then. The kite flew strong and proud. Hannah opened the teeth of the scissors and positioned it over the string. I put my hands over hers, giving her that extra push to snip the string.

-SNIP-

The kite flew away. It was kidnapped by the wind, at least that's how it looked. The string fell to the ground. Lifeless. Strings can't fly.