erase the dot

a pair of ripe, matured tears escapes the eyes a second after the time hits 7:25. the tears sway in slow motion, tracing the valleys of the cheeks, in synch with the players’ baby come back before they leap down one of the pages of joseph o'neill’s netherland.

the liquid orbs, slightly illuminated by the faint ray of sunlight penetrating the bus window, travel across the paragraphs narrating the disturbance at the cricket field in new york.

as the bus proceeds to the next stop, the tears swallow the letters and the words along their path. both try to meet but continuously missing each other as they bury themselves beneath that particular page blurred from the eyes of the reader.

at exactly 7:35, just a second before the bus driver hit the break, the pair of ripe, matured tears, now reduced to diamond beads, finally meet each other a few centimeters above the edge of the page. at that moment, at that particular second right before the world comes to a halt for it to move forward again, the pair of ripe, matured, beads of tears embrace before they completely dissolve on top of the last paragraph’s period.