by Eoghan Ryan
Her name was Rüya. An unusual name and so I would ask.
Just a dream, she would say, a dream in my mother's tongue.
And your Mother, did she give you that?
No, it was my father, a long time ago.
It is quiet small I suppose.
Easier than carrying a big one?
Ruya was small too, appropriate that she be so. Silent, she would make no sense any other way. Can I help you, to carry it I mean?
No, thank you.
It would be no trouble, such a little thing, to carry it, for a while at least.
No, thank you, it's mine to carry.
Share the load, a nice thing to do. Her smile was fleeting, her gaze lowered.
I should go now.
Why a drawer, I must ask?
I was too loud, cried too much, you know.
I see… Not really… Wait, please explain?
I would be quiet then.
For how long?
You like questions.
Yes, I'm sorry.
I don't know. I just carry it.
No, inside I mean, how long would he put you in there?
Oh, I don't know, time is different in the dark.
And, your Mother?
Oh, she carries something else.
My questions stopped and Rüya went.