Like a dozen other starts, this is also one.
‘Is that even a Muslim name?’ asks Farida, in a matter of fact way. Like it is normal to ask such questions to complete strangers.
‘Yes, I was named after the brightest sky in the night sky and the great Iranian King’ answers Sirus, with an implied sense of exhaustion, like a he has been asked this question one too many times.
He looks up to the night sky, scanning it, until finally his neck finally twisting and he smiles. Like meeting an old friend, and picking up where you last left off, he winks at Sirus – the star.
‘There, you see that? Those three stars in a line? That’s Orion’s belt. Orion was a hunter, the Great Hunter. Now follow through Orion’s belt. There, thats the brightest star in the night sky, Sirus. Thats who I am named after’ he finishes, lowering his hand.
A cold December breeze blows, gently. He is suddenly very aware of the cold soft skin pressing against his arm, realizing he moved too close in the glee of the moment. He is very aware of his own outline. Farida, seemingly unaware of their proximity, stares at the star for a while, then looses interest and starts gazing at other immortals mapped on the night sky.
Every fiber of his being told him not to move an inch, but he did. ‘Doesnt feel right’, he said to himself, repeatedly. Slowly, as not to offend her, he moved away, just an inch. The warmth radiating from her skin beating gently on his. Or maybe it was his mind playing ticks on him again.