The afternoon heat engulfed me, the sun seemed to be feeding on my eyes, I could feel its bite. I was reading and fell asleep.
An arm almost strangled me and then I melted; the muscles bulged and relaxed by turns. I felt warm. I could see no face. There were city noises but the sight was calm. Greenery all around. Sat down on a low wall facing the hedges.
Across the street was a car. People I seemed to know were getting in. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. They scurried towards the car. It wasn’t a big car. Their hands were beckoning me. Wait, wait, I wanted to say but the words would not come out. Then I saw him, faceless again, the beige shirt sticking to him like cling film. He took the diary from my hand. I did not know I had anything in my hand. I could hear his laughter, clear laughter. Give that back to me, I said. He started reading aloud, passages I had written.
The voice was resonating with me as though he was scrunching the pages, his tongue wetting them. I saw it turn blue with the ink. Give it back, please. Don’t take that from me. I felt I was leaving myself. There was fear. I felt something fall on my lap. It was my diary. I could not see him yet. Take it, keep it, but I know you now, he said.
He did not have any email address. I will find you, he said. For some reason I brought out a pen to write down mine. I could not find any paper. I tore off a leaf; holes formed in it. He laughed again. I cut off the edge of a page from the diary and started writing. The ink had dried after I managed to scribble three letters.
The hands in the car were still beckoning me. I was supposed to know them but I don’t know who they were. The hedges had grown. The road was empty. Suddenly he was behind a window. Through the glass I could see him reading my diary. I looked at my lap; it was still there with me.
What are you reading? I asked.
The afternoon heat swamped me. I heard distant laughter. Was it a dream?