Maung Tun Thu - A little bit of snow, a little bit of summer

(1)

My younger sister wired me from home and told me that my brother was dead. How could he have died? I couldn't imagine. As far as I know, my brother is very healthy. And he is already engaged to a woman.

"Is it a dream? Why did you have to die so quickly? How did it happen? Did you get married when you were young, before the engagement?"

I was surprised to find that I had not been able to get water.

But that's all I thought. I didn't think anything more special than that.

There is nothing around me that could remind me of this issue.

The next day, another telegram arrived from my sister, containing thirty-four code words. It detailed the incident. My brother had committed suicide by slitting his throat with a knife.

My friend Zu's hands were shaking as he deciphered the coded words in the telegram.

"How to do it?"

he asked.

I didn't know what to say, I just clenched my hands and whispered to myself.

"Isn't it a dream?"

Zu looked at me with pitying eyes. To him, I seemed to be the most unfortunate person in the world.

"Why are you looking at me with that face?"

Before I could ask this question, Zu left the room.

I was sitting on the sofa, looking at the portrait of Janet Gaynor on the wall. She was smiling at me. This silly girl hadn’t smiled for a long time. Why was she smiling suddenly today? Was she even making fun of my misfortune? She was a beautiful girl with blonde hair. She had fresh skin and a light blue blouse. But what did all this have to do with me? What use was it to me? Now my brother was dead. My eyes moved from Janet Gaynor’s portrait to the whitewashed wall. The entire wall was white, without any sharp edges or spots. But above that wall, a thin, dark face appeared.

There was nothing special about his face. It could be his face, my face, anyone's face. But it was my brother's face.

That's right. His face is his real face. The face of a normal young man like me.

“I am dead,” he said.

"I died by slitting my own throat with a knife."

"That's impossible," I replied.

"Brother, you're talking to me right now. How is that possible?"

“It’s true. I was stabbed with a knife. I suffered a lot. No one knows how much I suffered. No one remembers me or misses me. That’s how my life ended,” he said sadly. Tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

"If a dead person can still talk and cry, then death is not scary. And everyone has to die one day, right?"

I was talking to myself in a whisper.

“I really don’t want to die,” he said. He bit his lips. His face was pale. His mouth was a straight line. His eyes were split in two, and I stared at his face.

The entire wall turned white again. My brother's face was no longer on the wall.

I cursed myself.

"You're just dreaming with your eyes wide open," he muttered.

The telegram, which contained thirty-four code words, is still on the table...