Feelings

          Jiya walked up to her daughter who was sitting on the couch and scribbling something in an old book. "What are you writing, child?" she curiously asked her daughter, ruffling her lovely short hair. Her daughter looked up rather sadly and replied, "My feelings." "Oh. That's something strange. So, can I read these feelings of yours after you’re done writing them all down?" Jiya asked. "Um..Okay," her daughter said, and began writing again. 
          After a while, as Jiya was working in the kitchen, her daughter came up to her and gave her a piece of paper managing a fake smile. Very inquisitively Jiya read that piece of paper.
          "On the cold evening of 3^rd October 2015, a dreadful incident took place. This incident has really shaken my mental stability. I still remember what he looked like in my hands. Before, before he went. Never to be found again. Thinking about him creates a lump in my throat. Probably because I am trying hard not to cry, trying hard to remain strong. I want to get all the sorrow that burdens my heart out, but I feel helpless. After all, he was the one who kept me distracted from this great world of treachery and misery. People, especially all the adults, kept on telling me not to get attached to him but I denied as he was my only support, my only medium of happiness. He helped me so much with all my school work. Entertained me whenever I felt vacant. I miss him. I miss you, Maddy. I really loved you.”

            Jiya read what her 12-year-old daughter, Shayla had written. She read what Shayla called her feelings. She saw Shayla sitting on the couch in a pensive state of mind. Jiya was confused. She was in a dilemma whether to be proud of Shayla or to laugh out loud. Was she supposed to be proud of her daughter’s excellent writing skills? Or was she supposed to laugh on the drama her little kid had created because she lost her cell phone whom she referred to as Maddy?