Hey, big sister. Just my weekly report. So, I met someone.

It was Sunday afternoon, a time when Johannesburg, but for a brief moment, is its beautiful best.

“How quiet the sun sets,” he said.

We shared the bench, just sitting, watching the children play in the park. Children and mothers like us, so far away from home.  It was how our conversation began as the sun dipped into a fiery horizon — the sky sprayed with colours of gold dust over the mine dumps.

The golden glow softened our words. We exchanged stories — he left home; I left home.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because home had become impossible.”

“Yes?” he replied.

“Maybe one day we won’t need to cross borders to find happiness.”

 He laughed. I liked the way he laughed, a sense of sadness in his eyes.

I asked him to take my picture.

“It’s to send to my sister,” I explained.

He laughed again. “Are you not afraid that I will take more than your picture?”

And to quickly assuage the hesitancy of my response, he asked, “And will you take mine?” He passed me his phone; I took his picture. We scrolled down each other’s screens and laughed at how we imagined each other, such happiness in our eyes. I felt an intimacy when our fingers accidentally touched. A feeling of warmth.

In the excitement of our meeting, we did not exchange numbers when we parted. Then the light faded and so did he, into the Johannesburg shadows, a cold Jozi night.

That night, wrapped in blankets in my tiny room, I kept looking at my phone. Will we meet again? Johannesburg is such a lonely place, alone.

Bye, love.

Your little sister.