Rebeka Bojboi

Ordinary

A boy is sitting atop the pylon. “The fear of never falling in love and the tears after losing the feelings of what you thought love was” was tattooed in bold, neat letters across Ignatius’ back. “In humility count others more significant than yourselves” was tattooed in the same style across Uriel’s chest. At least that’s what I think their names were: it was the label on their cages – Ignatius ascending in front of me, Uriel behind me. “Ascension in progress, attention. Ascension in progress, attention,” the cube atop the pylons would radiate – I say radiate, because I don’t think I can hear.