Still Life Sunday: Ice Cube Rebellion


10 Ice Cube Rebellion

As the train slows down and pulls to the station, she looks out from the rain-covered window and smiles. This is a town she knows.

When the train comes to a full stop, she takes the step from train to pier, her feet automatically guiding her to a familiar street that leads to the school she attended the year before. Everything feels familiar, nothing seems to have changed. She fits right in, as if she was never gone.

At school, a familiar face greets her in recognition, probably thinking that she still lives here, is a part of the establishment. No one seems to have noticed that she’s been absent for several months and is, even now, only visiting.

It’s as if nothing’s changed. But for her, everything has changed.

She might have the same hair, the same smile and style of clothing, but on the inside, nothing’s the same. If that person who just greeted her had asked her how she’s doing, the change might have come up. But only a short and cute ‘hey’ doesn’t give away anything of value. It doesn’t reveal how you are or who you are.

A year in this town was an intensive time. She liked to think of that year as an ice-making process

In the beginning, she was liquid water, poured into an ice cube form to become something else. Slowly, she started adjusting to the square formed nest, as was expected. Soon after that, as if placed in a freezer, she started to form, intensifying in essence, the edges of the square holding tightly to her. Tighter and tighter, the form would become her or she would become the form, until – –

A time, a process, had come to an end. The liquid had turned into hard ice, and was popped out from the form. What had seemed almost impossible at first was ridiculously easy in the next moment, and she was free. Now formed like a square, fitting in, just as designed. Perfect.

She left the town, ready for the next thing. What she didn’t know was that if she wanted to return, she shouldn’t have left.

She thought it would be easy to return to the same town. After all, the square formed nest had given her some comfort and hadn’t been all that bad. Life there had been easy as an ice-making process. But she should have known that once an ice cube leaves its form, it changes and won’t fit in any more.

After being away a few months and now wandering through the corridors of the school and the streets leading to city center, she realized that. She understood that she wouldn’t be coming back, she couldn’t come back.

She didn’t fit in anymore, she was no longer an ice cube, formed like a square. She had become more like liquid, free to transform to mist or rain or ice in a different form. She had become unfit for the existing form and she needed to seek her place elsewhere.

Her place wasn’t here, not in this town, no matter how familiar it felt and how easily she might be able to fit in again. She had already said goodbye to the linear streets, the sharp wind and the rain. She had let go of the ice cube form, its hard grip of comfort.

What would come next?


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