1. Memory
It was easy to fall in love.
Few pegs of whisky in your throat, and you find everything beautiful. Right from the bartender to the handsome single beside you.
It was a personal joke I shared with myself that it was so easy to fall out of love too. You just need to get out of the mystic drugged form you would be in, and you would stop seeing the world from rose tinted glasses.
I circle the contents of my glass and stare at the golden liquid glowing in the moonlight.
The golden color reminded me of his eyes.
Those eyes which captured mine when he said what he felt for me, back then. He never said he loved me, and frankly had he told me those cliched words, they would've had put me off.
What he told me that evening in the library was a lot different.
"You're beautiful" The words which I heard all my life and immune to didn't catch my attention, but I stopped whatever I was doing when I heard his next set of words "You're beautiful Inside out"
I had not said a word then. I just returned his stare with a poker face, and answered his affectionate stare with a cold look.
It would be a blatant lie if I say it didn't affect me then. It did. It all but scared the living daylights out of me.
It were his words, or the honesty, I knew not but to look into a man's eyes and find your reflection in them is not easy, not especially if those eyes convey you something which his words can't. .
"Sameera" I heard my name being called and jerked out of a distant memory. "Hmm?"
"It's late. Let us get you home" I heard my friend speak.
As the incident from this morning entered my conscious, I smiled into my drink before murmuring "It's late indeed"
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