The glass road

Winter’s coming fast. Only a few more days before the sky starts dropping crystals. A few more days
before the world turns into glass.
Wrapped up in my thick nylon jacket and my fuzzy woollen scarf, I feel quite comfortable out here. I
see people walking slowly, careful not to slip and fall. There is an overwhelming lack of noise. I realize
that the noise that’s missing is that of cars. The gentle humming of the engines at the end of a long
Friday afternoon has been replaced by a cold, almost hostile howling of the wind. It has only been
two weeks since I returned here, to my hometown, but I’m starting to feel like I’ve never been
anywhere else in my life. The town hasn’t changed much in those five years. Some people have left
to find better opportunities in the city, some people from the city came here hoping to find a break
from their stressful lives. Old faces are gone and new faces appear, but the town itself retains its
humble, soothing face, even on this cold winter’s afternoon. As I pass the old candy shop where I
used to hang out with my friends a lot as a kid, I realize that I haven’t seen any of those friends
around in the two weeks that I’ve been here. Perhaps they’ve moved to the cities, together with
those who wanted to experience something new. The old candy shop has been abandoned and
neglected. The broken windows and unhinged door have lost their purpose of keeping the warmth of
this place sealed in. Now the freezing air rages through the old shop, removing any warmth that was
left within. I decide to walk on, knowing that I shouldn’t wander in the past for too long. The past is
the past and if I stay there I won’t be able to move on. I learned that the hard way about a month
ago, when I walked into a girl whom I had a crush on since I was in high school. We talked for a bit
and we had some coffee at the local café. Apparently she had left our hometown a year after I did so.
When I heard her story about how her mother had passed away on a dark December night, while she
was getting married in a small chapel in a faraway city, I was surprised by what I was thinking at that
moment. Even though the focus should have been on her mother, I couldn’t get over the fact that
she got married. I looked at her hand in search for a ring, and surely, there it was. A modest ring with
one diamond in the middle. The girl I had fallen in love with so long ago still managed to break my
heart, even after all these years. I think she caught on to what I was thinking back then, because she
suddenly told me that she had to leave. She left the cash for her coffee on the table and left without
saying goodbye, not even a handshake or a wave. That day I sat at home reminiscing in front of a
mirror. Wondering why I cling so willingly to the past and why my mind refuses to move on. That’s
when I decided that I would return to the town I used to live in, perhaps I would find some answers
in the place where my memories were made. So here I am, walking down a barren road with which I
am all too familiar, remembering all the things I used to think and feel. The winter is harsher and
more tormenting than I can remember and the streets are not as lively anymore. The road is dark at
night, the moon blocked by a layer of icy clouds and the cars with their headlights, missing, unable to
traverse this road. As the sun sets behind me that unforgiving night starts creeping in again,
temperatures quickly dropping and the streets becoming even more deserted than they already
were. Within minutes I find myself to be alone outside. I walk past the playground where I played all
the time after school way back when.