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The area was silent because only two souls were present, minding their own business. Well partially. In the silence, he could hear muffled sniffling. Sniffling?

Under the touch of moonlight, her eyes shimmered with tears. Who or what had hurt her? He wanted to expel those tears from the usually cheerful Niqabi elder sister of Ishaaq. He felt his eyes moisten, subconsciously. He turned his head ahead, looking at the vastness of the forest before him.

The sight of people crying made him cry too.

Moments later, his eyes let out the tears he was trying to hold in. Reminiscing his childhood, his city apartment, his neighborhood friends, school, his teachers, and just about anything made his heart clench with melancholy.

Sarah noticed a presence – a familiar presence on her far right and for the second-long glance she spared at that direction, she saw Ibrahim with crystal eyes – or maybe it was like crystal because of his tears. Why was he crying out here on his own? That shouldn't matter... they're just, strangers. She thought to herself.

Huh, why are tears falling from her eyes? She wiped the tears from her eyes. Oh, maybe it's because she was suppressing her sneezes. After all, the reason she came outside was to take a breath of fresh air. The storeroom was pretty dusty, and she was dust allergic... so her sneeze fiesta at home, swollen eyes, and even more sneezing prompted her mother to encourage her to go outside and inhale fresh, non-dusty air.

She breathed out a relaxed sigh when the sneezes stopped battling to leave her nose and/or mouth. And then she turned back, after staring at the stars one last time – and maybe glancing to her right to see if Ibrahim was still there which he was, walking her way home.

On her way back, she replayed the few-second-long scene her eyes captured. Of Ibrahim's

melancholic expression. She couldn't help but be curious about him, and why he looked like that. (A/N: you two... are really something).

Ibrahim himself walked home a few minutes later, once he was sure his tears had dried up. He didn't want to worry Maryam for no reason – she always got so worked up whenever she saw her elder brother cry... because he never does, or very rarely.

As the both of them return to their own homes, they can't help butcontinue thinking about each other. The images of their eyes sparkling with tears refuseto leave theirmemory system. But again, why should they care? They weren't close.Nor were they supposed to be.