Three days later, her phone finally buzzed again. They had reached a new area, just for tonight.
Her grandfather had finally sipped on water, enough for tonight. Her brother had still not been
found, not till tonight. Her mother’s fever had spiked once more, for the second time that night.
Her younger sister writes, “Going to try sleeping before the bombs go off for the night. Tonight
is a full moon, and I am sending it to you. You will see it from your room in seven hours, we will
share this night.”
My beloved sits
beneath the full moon and says
“this will be our last.”
—
Shehrbano Naqvi is a Pakistani writer that is currently pursuing an MFA at The New School. In honor of her late brother, her work primarily explores the themes of mental health and grief, but has recently expanded to include discourses around identity, social inequalities and cultural movements that define the 21st century. Her work has also appeared in Rue Scribe, Eunoia Review, and The Tempest, and she has performed on stages in Pakistan, Italy, and the USA.
