TWENTY-TWO
“Your eyes are like roadmaps,” Zaki said to me once when we were still getting to know each other, me hesitantly, him excitedly, accelerating the relationship at every chance. “It seems like there is hope, there is refuge in them.”
There is no future in them, I wanted to remind him. Now they were a canvas that was stripped of its colors although I didn’t feel the plainness within.
“I mean that in a good way,” Zaki was quick to point out. “It’s almost as if your emotions live within them and define the depth and the passion that drives you.”
Does white come in shades? I wondered. Technically, is white even a color? At some point in my life, I had grown to accept my colorless life. I accepted that knowing Faizan was like meeting a king for the first time—you take that memory t
