Mira in love is better than Mira in tears, I realised too late. The prayers I made for a breakup itched like a sore throat. Mira looked like a martyr. She read tragic novels and sang sad songs. I tried to ignore her and watched the blue sky and the horse-shaped clouds. Mira wanted to curse her bad luck. Her losing true love. I wanted to chase red-yellow-pink butterflies and say mean things about mean boys. It was a long, dull summer. Mira promised never to fall in love again. And I promised never to make another prayer this fast.
Marzia Rahman is a Bangladeshi fiction writer who writes flashes in the morning and dreams of flashes at night. Twitter: @MarziaR57167805.