Nothing Really Matters

The morning sun, a gentle caress filtering through the windowpane, painted the motes of dust dancing in the old room with a golden hue. They swirled and shimmered, a silent ballet of light and air, utterly captivating. ‘Nge’yarr’ lay on his back on the bed, his gaze fixed on those ephemeral specks. He held his hands, palms spread, before his face, watching them move. Was this the stark reality of life, or merely a figment of a nightmare from which he could not awaken? He couldn’t tell. His existence, submerged for eight hours a day, six days a week, in the dry, arid landscape of ledgers and figures, had reduced him to a mere automaton, programmed by his surroundings. He hadn’t found a way out of the trap of the real world, or, more accurately, he hadn’t truly searched.

“Yeint… Mother isn’t feeling very well, dear.” The weak moan from the shadowed corner of the room, his mother’s voice, struck Yeint’s chest with the force of a sudden blow. Though some acquaintances and childhood friends affectionately shortened his name to ‘Nge’yarr,’ his mother had never used it. She wished for the entity of ‘Nge’yarr’ to cast no shadow, not even a glimmer, over her son. Just as his name suggested, Yeint was meant to be brave, but his mother knew, and he knew too, that amidst the hospital bills, medicine costs, and mounting debts, there was no room for bravery. The salary of a mere accountant was hardly enough to glance at bravery, let alone embody it.

That night, Yeint remained alone in his office. His fingers trembled as he stared at the company's secret bank account on the computer screen, the calculator beside it. He knew the nature of cancer; it was a matter of time before it waved goodbye. But he could no longer bear to pretend, to mask his mother’s pain, hidden behind a forced smile and her brave face. “Do what you need to do with a clear mind, son. Mother is feeling better. If I get some leave, we’ll go back to Kyarku for a while, and Mother can rest properly then.” His mother truly wanted to return to their village, Kyarku. He knew that better than anyone. Though she filled her thoughts with pleasant dreams to ease her pain, her son knew her eyes betrayed her.