Slow By Zain Saeed

I stare at blank spaces because they remind me of other things I used to stare at, when times were simple. Well, not simple, but slower. That was when a day felt like a day, because Feedo was around, and he used to lick my face every other hour and I could count how many times he licked it with his Labrador tongue. He was so much wiser than I ever will be. I remember one day I was out for three hours straight, and on my return, I found him giving me a reproachful look as if he were trying to tell me big things like time waits for no one and lost time is never found again. Those were the times when I wondered whether Feedo was, in fact, me, or a version of me from a time where whoever had made the world run took personal preferences into account. The more I think about this, the more I’m convinced of its truth, because he always seemed to know when I wanted something, and would hang his head much the same as I did when faced with unhappy things. Daria called it uncanny. The day he reproached me regarding time was also the day he dragged me by the sleeves into the bedroom where I found Daria stuck in some extremely happy moment, one she refused to get out of. So Feedo and I sat and stared at each other for hours before calling anybody, and he told me things like she’s in a better place and even more things about time. He then got up and paced around the room, slowly. I wanted to pace, too, but my legs wouldn’t let me. When they came to take Daria away, Feedo stayed behind. I owed Daria things, so I went along. I did not cry, neither did Feedo, but we were both great at hiding things. When I came back, I found him sulking by the television. When he saw me, he tilted his head and told me to remember to keep the TV plugged in next time. Daria hated it when I unplugged things. Feedo and I stared at each other rather than the TV, then he walked away to fall asleep by the kitchen door and told me to go do the same. I could not move, so I remained where I was, staring at nothing in particular, hoping to remember things, but failing to do so. It was all just blank. Sometime later, could have been minutes, hours, or days, Feedo showed up and sat in the blank space I was staring at and filled it up with his disapproval, because time, etc. Now when I stare at a blank wall, I think of him and then I get up to do impossible things, like wash the dishes and shut the bathroom door. I still cannot, however, feel time.

© 2015 Zain Saeed

Zain Saeed is currently studying linguistics in Freiburg, Germany. He has been published in the Freiburg Review, Eunoia Review, Down in the Dirt, and has work forthcoming in Beyond Imagination. He was born and raised in Pakistan. You can find him @linguistictrain

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