On the bus going home I started thinking about my late brother. Normally after work we liked to text each other. Has his soul gone to Barzakh, the temporary place? Where is it really? Is it in another dimension of this world that our eyes can't see? Suddenly a woman who was sitting in front of me gave me a small piece of paper, a leaflet, pink. It said Can the dead really live again? I smiled at her, feeling a bit embarrassed and thinking, did I look that sad? I saw her taking the leaflet out of her stash, why did she pick that one? A coincidence? Ain't that spooky.

The song that my brothers like to play. I wonder if my other brother had this playing in his head when he buried his only brother. Man it must be hard for him.