Just as Tara began to lose herself in those imaginary fireflies, mistaking them for reality, Surjo gripped the bun firmly with both hands. With a single snap, he broke it into two pieces.
The parts were not perfectly equal; one piece was slightly larger, the other a bit smaller. To expect a boy who had never shared his food with anyone to divide it perfectly was futile. For a fleeting second, a flicker of hesitation crossed Surjo's mind—should he keep the larger portion for himself? But his subconscious answered immediately, without any counter-argument—'No'.
Tara was now his guest. To Surjo, she no longer seemed like just a homeless wanderer clutching a broken violin. Was she his companion? No, calling her a companion felt too sudden. For now, she was an honored guest.
Surjo held out the larger piece of the bun toward Tara. "Would you hold this for a moment?"
Tara started. In an instant, her gaze shifted away from the festival of fireflies. She looked at Surjo in surprise for a few seconds, then her eyes fell upon the piece of bread held before her. Reaching out with both hands, she took the bun very carefully and brought it close to her chest. But Tara couldn't hide her observation; she saw clearly that the piece in Surjo's own hand was significantly smaller than hers.
"You give me the smaller piece. I can't eat a portion this big," Tara said. At that exact moment, a sharp, traitorous growl of hunger erupted from Tara's stomach. Hearing that sound, Surjo gave a small smile. It wasn't her words he heard, but the desperate cry of her belly.
Surjo shook his head and cut her off. "Nah, it's not right to waste food. Actually, I'm not that hungry. If I take the big piece, I won't be able to finish it and the food will go to waste." Surjo attempted a magnificent white lie.
Tara tried once more to return the larger portion, but before she could, Surjo took a massive bite out of his smaller piece. Seeing Surjo eat with such relish, the hungry monster inside Tara's stomach growled even louder. To silence her rebellious belly, Tara delayed no further; she took a large bite of the bread.
With the first bite, she felt a dry, hard piece of food enter her mouth. The bread was flavorless, with no hint of cream or anything savory inside. In ordinary times, it might have been difficult to swallow; a handful of water to wash it down would have been a relief. But in this world of scarcity, they had nothing more precious than this. They both began to tear and eat the bread with such satisfaction as if it were the last delicious nectar left on Earth.
Truth be told, this bread was nectar to them. Because... because salt water had begun to gather in Tara's eyes. But she steeled herself, trying her best to hold back the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She didn't want this new friend of hers to see her crying again. She knew that crying repeatedly in front of someone could often become a source of irritation.
She wanted to restrain her emotions. A small act of love or a slight injury—everything felt mountain-high to her. Her tears were like a spring, always eager to flow. But today, she buried those defiant tears deep inside. Today, she only wanted to feel the taste of this nectar-like bread with her entire being.
"Yum yum! Dum-dum chop-chop!" She began to chew the bread loudly, making strange noises. Her inner satisfaction and the deliciousness of the bread seemed to manifest through these sounds. Driven by hunger and gratitude, she seemed to forget all the rules of the world, immersed only in the joy of eating.
At that very moment, the sky tore open with a thunderous roar! Something shattered in the void above. A massive explosion, in the wake of which the deep night sky was instantly painted in red and green.
Tara was so lost in the trance of eating that the first flash escaped her notice. She looked out the window with lightning speed. But at that moment, the sky was calm and still again. "What just happened!?" Tara asked with intense anxiety. The bread in her hand was nearly finished.
Surjo took the last bite of his bread, stuffing the whole thing into his mouth. His steady gaze was still fixed on the horizon. Without looking at Tara, he said while chewing, "Oh, Osman told me about this before."
Tara didn't look directly at Surjo. "What!?"
Before he could finish his sentence, the second firework exploded loudly, intoxicating the sky. A shower of flames fell like a waterfall across the pitch-black canvas. First, a tiny point of light shot upward like an arrow, then, reaching mid-air, it shattered into a thousand pieces with a loud bang. The entire roof was illuminated by a brilliant crimson glow and emerald-green radiance. When that light crashed against Tara's face through the smoky curtain of the wind, her melancholy expression sparkled with a heavenly aura for a moment. The sparks vanished as they fell like rain, leaving behind an enchanted silence.
Surjo watched the fading streaks of light in the sky. He leaned his head slightly against the window frame, as if the cold outside air were washing away the exhaustion gathered on his forehead. He began to speak in a low voice, "Osman was saying..."
Surjo paused, as if trying to recall Osman's words. "There are still some nomads or strange kinds of people in this city... who wander through these ruins. Occasionally, they find some old fireworks. Maybe some people had them stored away from a long time ago."
Surjo now looked directly at Tara, a strange indifference in his eyes. "In this world, a handful of rice costs a lot now, but these colored lights have no value, Tara. No one will give even a drop of oil in exchange for them."
Surjo looked out the window again. With a small sigh, he said, "So they just launch the stored or found fireworks into the sky for a moment of peace. Finding a pinch of joy in exchange for something useless, I guess!"
The trace of that red and green glow was still lingering in Tara's eyes. She whispered in a tone of disbelief, "The people of Earth are actually fools!"
Tara paused after saying this. Her voice sounded a bit heavier in this silent night. She clutched her hands to her chest, as if suppressing a host of questions gathered inside. "Where everything is so ugly and gray... these beautiful, magic-like things should have been the most precious. Yet in this strange world... it turns out beautiful things are the most worthless!"
Looking at the fading smoke in the sky, Surjo suddenly asked, "Tell me Tara, is a shooting star this beautiful? I mean, like these fireworks?"
Tara didn't answer immediately. She looked down at her hands resting on her lap, bowing her head. The silence on the roof seemed to lump in her throat. She had never seen a shooting star; she had only imagined her whole life what it might look like, how beautiful it could be.
To describe what a shooting star looks like, she had only her imagination. And she didn't know how to put that imagination into words.
Seeing Tara's silence, Surjo realized himself that it was the wrong question to ask. He began to speak as if answering himself, "I sometimes hope—that a shooting star is the cheapest thing in this world." Surjo stopped for a moment, tapping his finger gently on the wooden frame of the window. "I've noticed that in this world, the lower the price of a thing, the greater its beauty seems to be."
He looked out the window and thought for a while. Maybe people of old times had everything—plenty of food, places to live, light. So maybe they had the time to care for beauty, just like that broken violin. And the people now have nothing. When a person's stomach is empty, the stars above are nothing more than points of light to them. Surjo couldn't blame them. With time, he had accepted this himself—when scarcity begins, beauty is the first thing to lose its value.
As the night deepened, the haze of sleep settled over both their eyes. Surjo moved to one side of the bed, making room for Tara. As he lay down, turning his face toward the wall, he whispered to himself, "You know Tara, I have only two wishes in my life now. One is to hear that melody, and two—to sit with you one day and see a real shooting star."
Tara said nothing; she only stared at Surjo's back in the darkness. It felt to her that on this dust-covered roof, that one small wish was the most precious treasure in the world at this moment.