Meet You at Montauk

She stood there staring at the abyss of darkness of darkness that lay in front of her. The stains on her face gave her tears away, the tears she was trying so hard to contain, she tried so hard to hide. But now she wasn’t able to contain them anymore.

Though it was her decision to call it quits, then why was she having so much difficulty in coming to terms with a decision she made? Why was it so difficult to accept it and move on? After all what use is love of you had to work to sustain it, and love didn’t come easy?

A part of her told her this was the right thing to do as things weren’t quite working out, no matter how hard they had tried, and they had tried. 

But then there was a part of her that longed for him. That longed for his touch, to feel him, to hear him, to have his arm wrapped around her, protectively. 

All this was not possible, no matter how hard and desperately she wanted him. She spoke at length with him and trying to reason out why they should be together. But no matter what she said she couldn’t convince him, he was right in not wanting to get back together, cause they had given their relationship their bestest, and it didn’t work. They were two different people, and it was really hard to overcome this differences. So it was best to go their own way and put an end to being touch, as it would only bring them more pain.

She couldn’t bring herself to curse his nam, cause he had never given her any reasons to do so. He was kind and tender and loving soul, always respectful towards. Her only complaint being is that he could never understand her.

Although her friends keep telling her that life would go on, time would her get over him, but she couldn’t help herself and think of him, wondering if her was thinking of her too, I he was missing her as much as she missed him.

How she wished she could do a Clementine and wipe out them from her memory. Thinking of him brought her pain and she had come to a point where she felt she couldn’t take the pain any longer. But this memories that she had of them was something she treasured.

How she wished she could just close her eyes and never wake up, let nature take its course, cause she could never get herself to do it.

She felt she had hit the lowest point in the relationship, the lowest point of her life. Now the only way was picking herself back up. She had no intention of digging herself into the ground. 

So she wiped of her tears, and went to bathroom to wash her away the ones that had stained her face. She needed to pick herself up and move on. Pick up the pieces of her broken heart and mend it and he’s.

As she was washed her face, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had always been strong and beautiful and kind. She stared into her beautiful piercings eyes wondering if she would ever see him again, would she ever fall in love again?

As she slowly wiped her face, she whispered , “Goodbye my Love, till we meet again. Till see you in Montauk!”

The Boy by the Sea

He pedaled fast, he pedaled hard, till all he could see was the sea. He rode on the shore till he came to a spot where it was only him, far from the maddening weekend crowd.

He placed his cycle against some rocks, cause his stand seemed to sink in the wet sand, and made his way towards the sea. He stood there staring at the vast body of water that lay in front of him.

He marveled at the majesticness of the sea, how endless it was. He couldn’t tell where sea ended and where the sky began. Somehow it seemed like they merged into each other, the sea and sky becoming one. Was that even possible, he wondered. The waters of the sea reflecting the sky above. The greyness of the skies above lent to the greyness of the waters in the sea below. Did the sea even have a colour of its own, after all wasn’t water supposed to be colourless? But still he had seen the sea in different hues, at different points in the day, at different places he had been.

Somehow the sea reflected the state of his mind. Dull, grey, restless. And there was so much similarity between them. Both were vast, endless, the holders of many secret and sunken treasures, if you were just willing to tap into the wealth of potential that lay hidden below the surface.

He closed his eyes and let the sound of the waves that rose and broke on the shore, that crashed upon the rocks ,wash upon him. There was something so soothing about the sound of the waves. He could sit there and listen to it the whole day. If he had a whole day to spare.

Though he grew up in the mountains, if you could call three years in the boarding growing up, he always felt one with the sea. There was something majestic about the sea, it seemed so calm, but in its fury it could swallow anything whole, just ask the Egyptian, nothing could stand in its  way, an ecosystem unto itself, there were no telling how many worlds were out there, if there were worlds under the sea.

And as he stood there the sun slowly began set, giving the sea a magnificent red-orange glow, as if the sea itself was on fire from swallowing the sun.

And when the last rays of the sun passed through and world was enveloped in darkness, the sea turned a shade of inky blue, He knew it was time to return back to the life he knew, but not before he said goodbye to sea, not forever, just for the moment, because he knew he would always be the boy by the sea.

A Song can Save a LIfe

As he stepped out on to his balcony he could sense the gloom, the air heavy with fear, anxiety, dread, of a city under siege, a city quarantined, in lockdown. The streets below bore a deserted look of a city gripped in fear. He noticed a few people sitting in their balconies, and even at this distance he could make out the gloom, the dread, the fear, but most of all the sadness in their eyes.

He couldn’t quite take this, and so stepped back into the confines of his room. He felt a cold sense of dread slowly gripping his heart, its long cold fingers slowly threatening to squeeze the life out of it. The air around was heavy and rife with fear and anxiety. He couldn’t shake off this feeling no matter how hard he tried.

And then he noticed his keyboard just sitting there. So he plugged it in and started to play. He needed a way to escape, a way of maintaining his sanity, and music provided that escape, music was therapeutic, in a time like this, and music was what he needed. Low and behold he felt a warmth rising from his fingers time, which were tickling the ivories, and flowing through his veins, to every part of his being, slowly enveloping his being, forcing the fear to recede, lifting the gloom, bringing him hope, calming his anxiety, settling his nerves. The music like a healing balm began to soothe his soul, relaxed him, calmed him down. And as he played on, everything seemed to light up with the gloom fading away, and his spirits lifting.

And as he tickled those ivories, an idea struck him. He knew what he needed to do. He took his keyboard to his balcony, and plugged it in to the speakers. The streets were still deserted, and there were few people staring blankly into space. He took a deep breath and hoped what he was about to do would bring respite from the gloom and fear that gripped the city.

Slowly he began playing his keyboard. At first, eyeing the buildings around him, and then slowly getting lost in the music. As he played, he noticed more people coming to their galleries, some wondering what was the music about, others just swaying hypnotically to it.

Low and behold he heard the faint strains of a saxophone being played, in a distance, duetting on the song he was playing. And he scanned the balconies for the saxophonist, who so beautifully blending into his own music, without once loosing the beat, keeping up their duet. And then he finally saw her peering out of her balcony, playing the saxophone, a building a way. He gave her a big thumbs up and continued to play, pausing for her to continue her note and then playing on. Together they made sweet music. 

Their music had intended affect, as more people came out on their balconies to enjoy the music. The gloom that hung heavy was slowly lifting up, and along with it their spirits. They continued their duet amidst the cheers of those who witnessed them play, who were touched by the music, who’s spirits were uplifted.

And as they brought a close to their duet there was a huge round of applause, resounding from every corner of the block. People appreciating what they had done, what they had just heard, what they witnessed, eternally grateful for the music. They too applauded each other. In that moment music provided them with the healing touch that was the need of the hour, and had somehow managed to save their lives.

The Unsaid Words

They had just done with dinner. The night was young, the night was cool. As they had nowhere to be, anytime soon, they decided to take a walk, under the pretext that they had to digest the food they had eaten. After all it is believed that walking post a meal aides digestion, or was it? They didn’t bother if this was true or just a myth, they just wanted an excuse to extend the moment, to spend more time with each other. 

So they walked down the not quiet deserted streets, passing teeny boppers and office goers who were intent to make the most of a Friday night. The weekend was nigh and with it came the weekend spirit. They didn’t take notice of the two souls walking down the street.

They walked down cobbled streets, their fingers brushing against each other, hooking on and then letting go. Fingers that didn’t grab on to each other, that didn’t latch on to each other. They just brushed again, enjoying the gentle touch, the brief brush, the sensation that it sent.

Dinner had been good, but dinner had been only an excuse for them to meet, to extract themselves from the mundane, from the stress, put it all behind them and make the most of the time they had. They had met a longtime ago, only to find each other. And they found each other when they needed it the most.

However,  they were two lonely souls who who were afraid of getting hurt. The past had scarred them as left broken and bruised. They didn’t want to go through all the hurt again. They didn’t want to commit and spoil that what they had, the bond that they shared. They didn’t want to ruin the relationship they cultivated by saying those words. But as they walked down that street they each secretly yearned to hear it from the other.

They came to a park and sat on an empty bench. They sat there under the starry sky, as a cool breeze brushed against their skins, without uttering a single word. Somehow their hands found each other, and that touch sent a warm feeling through their bodies, providing them the warmth they needed on that cool night. 

They talked quietly, trying to muster the words to say without uttering those three words. They didn’t want to be the first to utter it but secretly yearning to hear it. But the fear of them loosing each other, risking it all, kept them from uttering it. They liked each other, and cared for each other. They felt drawn to each other, attracted to each other. They knew how the other felt, it was an unspoken word, but they didn’t want to admit it.

They continued to sit there as time passed by, not wanting the moment to end. But it was getting late and they had to return to the life they had known. They stood up and embraced each other tightly, not willing to let go of the other, out of fear they may loose the other. Like two magnets drawn to each other, fused  together, they stood there in a warm embrace. And then they kissed, liked they had kissed before, first a lingering peck, and then with more passion. They didn’t bother what the people would say, they were lost in that moment. They knew the kiss was pure, encapsulated the feeling in them without reeling them in.

Finally they had to let go and return to the mundane. As they parted they secretly hoped the other would turn around and say those words, and so they lingered on while more, turning to glance if the other would glance back. Alas it was not to be, and so they returned back to their lives with those words still remaining unsaid.

The Last Waltz

As the party slowly began to wind down, the band slowed down the tempo, till there was all but one more song to play. Those present either made a beeline to the buffet, or to the exit. The night of revellery was slowly drawing to a close coming to close, no longer young.

He sat there in his tux with his bow tie untied and button loosened, sipping his final drink, the last one for the road, wondering if he should go or should stay. His friends were at the bar getting higher than the Empire State. Should he wait for them, or leave them to their highness.

And as he finally rose to leave he caught sight of her, sitting by herself, all alone and shy, elegant and beautiful and forlorn, a beauty not in the conventional sense. Throughout the night he had seen many would be suitors being shot down, given half a chance. He wondered if he should ask her to dance? What did he have to loose? This was last song the band would play, it was now or never, nothing lost, nothing gained, nothing could possibly happen over a dance, he thought.

So he gathered all the strength he could muster, and walked towards her. She saw him approach, and gave a faint but shy smile. And as he put forth his hand to ask her for a dance, all prepared to be shot down, she put her hand in his, and whispered “I thought you would never ask!”

For a moment he was stunned. He stood there frozen to the floor with an odd look on his face, did she actually say that? But then he gathered himself and led her to the now deserted dance floor of the ballroom. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her close to him, holding her by the waist, as she arched her back. Holding his frame they got in hold, she the painting, he the frame. He slowly but firmly guided her. And so they glided across the dance floor as if floating on air. The world around them disappeared in a blur, as they twirled, and elegantly moved across that dance floor. They rose and fell with the music, with the rise and fall of the beating of their hearts, every breath which they took. In those moment the world ceased to exist. It was just the two of them and the orchestra playing, as they waltzed elegantly to the last waltz.

And as the song reached it crescendo, he wondered if it was possible to fall in love with this lady, who through the night was shooting down would-be suitors, not even giving them half a chance. He just wanted the music to go on so that he could continue to the waltz this beautiful creature. Though the world around them was all but a blur, he was sure all eyes were fixed on them, but it didn’t matter, all that matter was here and now. He just wanted the orchestra to continue to play, the last waltz to last forever.

But as the music wound to a close, she gracefully curtsied to him and smiling thanked him for the dance. Leaving him on the dance floor, she made her way to the exit. He stood there, watching her leave, his heart heavy, and his mind in whirl. It was all over now , nothing left to say, just a hope that the last waltz last forever so he could fall in love with her a bit longer.

The Beginning: Breaking Free

He sat behind his desk staring blankly at the window in front. All he could see were the glass windows of the concrete jungle. There were no greenery in sight, except for the green envy that always reared it’s head. He knew that there was a park somewhere out there, he been there a few times, though not recently as work left no time for himself.

His life was going as he had planned but still he felt an emptiness inside, like something was missing, a piece of the puzzle that was missing. Was his life like that park, out there but not been lived? When was the last time he lived life the way it was meant to be? When was the last time he actually lived a life?

He was tied to his desk, except for the time he went to gym regularly, but not for superficialities that others went there for, just to stay injury free and healthy. That’s didn’t mean he didn’t have ladies swooning for him, but he had no time for love. He had set a path for himself and followed it to the T, love wasn’t a part of the plan, and he had no plan to take any deviation from his path. Still, as he sat he behind his desk, he felt an emptiness that kept eating him. He felt an uneasiness. When was the last time did he take a vacation? Did he do something impulsive? Something that was so not him.

He felt a restlessness deep within him, a voice shouting to be set free, to break free of the chains that bound him to that desk. He could sense the great outdoors calling out to him, beckoning him to join her. What was this feeling? Why didn’t it let him be?

Finally, on impulse, he closed his laptop, cancelled all his meetings for the day, for the next couple of days, and headed out of his office. After a quick light packing, he headed for the airport. Where would he go, he didn’t know. He hoped to find out, figure out by the time he reached the airport. This was the most impulsive he had ever been, almost pushing him off the path he had set for himself. But for once he was ready for what would come his way. A bit hesitant, a bit nervous, he was ready for the adventure that was in store for him, was ready to go where life would lead him.

The Beginning: La Vie Bohèmme

As she stood there, staring into space, in to the distance, nothing in particular, she wondered what lay ahead of her, what adventures lay ahead, what twists and turns would life take? She had a suitcase full of clothes but a head filled with dreams. She stood there with her suitcase, a little hesitant, a little scared, a little anxious, but all excited for what lay ahead of her.

College had prepared them for the life to come, but did it prepare her for the life she wanted live? Her friends would get married and have children, but domestic bliss was not for her. Some would start businesses, have successful careers and becomes pathbreaking leaders, but that was not a life she had envisioned for herself.

She thought about the boys, and girls she had kissed, and many more she would kiss. She was a free spirit, a bird that could not be caged. She sang not because she could sing but because there was a song in her heart. The rules of this world was not for her, she never could understand them, could follow them. She marched to the beats of her own drums, to the beating of her heart, down a path she had paved for herself. She couldn’t follow the path paved by others, it was not meant for her. Her spirit was wild and free, it couldn’t be contained, La Vie Bohéme.

She stood there and wondered, was leaving now the right thing to do? Should she follow her heart, or let her head control the journey she would take, her destiny. The world was her oyster, it could make her into a beautiful pearl, but it could also let her be an ugly rock and spit her out. This thought scared, frightened her, making her doubt if this was the right thing to do? But then life is short and the world is large, she had to go out make memories for herself. 

She took a deep breath and took a step into the unknown, into the uncertainties of what lay ahead, but into the adventures she were to have, the experiences that would shape her life. She step into the train station, onto the train that would take her into the adventure, the life that lay waiting for her, the life she was meant to live. As the train pulled out from the station she waved goodbye to her friends (who had come to see her off, and make that last ditch effort to make her choose otherwise), and to the life she had once known.

The Raging Tempest: The Mind of a Woman Scorned

Where did she go wrong? What did she do wrong? Was there something that she did, or something she didn’t do? Her head was swimming with so many questions with no answer in sight. Why did he spurn her, if spurn was the right word to be used here? Hadn’t she been an obedient, loving wife, a dutiful daughter-in-law, in line with the vows which they had made to each other, in the presence of their loved ones and friends? Then why did he want to separate? Where did she go wrong?

There were so many questions racing in her mind, but she couldn’t find the root to her situation, leaving her hopeless, helpless, in despair. Her world seemed like it was falling apart, sinking speedily into a black hole, threatening to take her with it, to swallow her whole. She was restless from not knowing what to do, he had blindsided her. 

Her eyes were red from crying, her face stained with her tears. She had locked herself in their room, refusing to come out, not for him or anyone, or even food. She refused to take anything, all she did was sob uncontrollably till she fell asleep. But then sleep came to her in fits, and when she woke, she once again realised the hopelessness of her situation and started to cry again till she fell asleep again.

She went through this cycle a few more times till she could cry no more. She had used up all her tears, she had no more tears to cry, like she had dried up all her tears. The feeling of hopelessness and despair made way to a simmering fire that was lit by his betrayal. A steady rage, an anger seemed to rise in her chest. Why should she waste her tears on the betrayer of her trust, the oath breaker, back stabber. Yes his action had left shellshocked and crestfallen, but why should she be a pitiful figure. He had betrayed her and now he should pay for it, she would make him pay for it. She would make him pay for it, she would make pay for every last teardrop on her pillow, every teardrop she shed for him. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, now there was hell for him to pay. She would make him feel the heat of her fury.

She couldn’t sleep, she just didn’t want to get mad, she wanted to get even. She was so filled with rage and hatred towards him that she was surprised to see his call. She didn’t want to talk to him, she didn’t want to hear him, she didn’t want to do anything with him. She tried to ignore the ringing phone but her persisted till she finally relented out of spite and anger, if nothing else. 

She wanted to scream into her phone, but there was something about his voice that began to calm the tempest within her. He begged her to hear him out, he was prepared to face the consequences after that. He knew that nothing he could say or do could stop the chain of events that he had set in motion, the hurt he had caused her, undo his decision. He knew he was the cause of the pain, and given a chance he wished if he could do without causing her pain, but there was no way around it and he had to do it.

This marriage wasn’t what he had wanted, in fact he was forced into, coerced into something he didn’t want, emotionally blackmailed into it. He tried his best to give her the love she deserved, the love she desired, the love he couldn’t give her. He couldn’t find it in himself to love her, he could love no woman. It would be wrong on his part to good on living a lie. It was eating him from inside, and he couldn’t live with that guilt on his conscience. Therefore he decided to put an end to it.

He was prepared for the worst, prepared to face the consequences of his decision. He had inadvertently hurt her and he was ready to pay for it. He was prepared to support her financially through out her life. He knew doing this may cause her initial pain but he was setting her free from living a life of lie, from an empty relationship that acted like a prison. 

When they finally finished their conversation, she placed her phone at the side, took a deep breath and stared into space in front of her. She knew he was a man of his words, and would never go back on it. What he said rang true cause they had yet to consummate their marriage, and barring this situation, even here he had not wronged her, it was just that while making making things right he had caused he le pain. But he had set her free. She took a deep breath as she felt drained, she had run the whole gamut of emotions, from despair to rage, to pity, and now in a way she felt liberated, she felt free. She felt sorry for him, a pity towards him, but now she needed to think for herself, think about herself. He had set her free and now was the time to make the most of it, take control of her life, live it on her own terms. She finally found hope, and for the first time she smiled.

A Little Piano Tales: Bonding over Music

She completed her homework and decided to practice on her piano. Her parents insisted she take up at least one musical instrument (cause they were the kind that insisted on an all round development), and she was more than happy to oblige.

After playing a few chords and a couple of tunes which she had learned and needed to practice, after she felt she had practiced enough she decided to do something different. She started playing a song, her current favourite song by her favourite band which was dedicated to all the girls, and the music video featured some of her favourite female actors and personalities and singers. She had worried her tutor to give her the chords, and now that she had it she couldn’t wait to play it.

She was so engrossed in figuring the chords and the notes progression that she didn’t realise that her father had come into the room and was listening to her play. He picked his guitar and switched on the amplifier, trying to tune it. She was startled and turned around to find her father there. He urged her to continue and asked for the chords. She was bit hesitant, but this wasn’t the first time she played before him, however, it would be the first time they jammed together. She gave him the chord progression and he began playing, harmonising his guitar with the notes she played on her piano. 

When they hit the final note she smiled and looked at her father, trying to note the approval on his face. He just asked her about the song which she was learning. He asked her to play it, he could help by playing it with her. However she had only one sheet music and wasn’t too sure how to play it and would need the music sheet to play. He stood behind her read the chords from over shoulder.

She began playing it in rhythm the way she had learned. He in turn kept in tune with his daughter. He was familiar with the song, a tune from his youth, and now it felt special sharing it with his daughter. They played together filling the room with sweet music. Every melody, every note was filled with feeling, nothing more than feeling, just as the song suggested. They both got lost in the in the music, in that melody, in the harmonies, in the intricacies of the music, the chords, the rhythm, as it rose and fell. 

To the outside world they were making sweet music but only they knew they were sharing something much more deeper, much more meaningful. The song gave them a moment that was special that they would cherish for all eternity, brought them closer together. It was the music that cemented the bond they shared.

When they finally played the last and brought the song to its lilting conclusion, they looked at each other and smiled, cause those were moments well spent, moments that were going to be etched in the memories for all eternity.

The Magical Hi-Five

She put on her a little red coat and slowly made it down the street to the place the place where the race route passed close to her street. There was a cold breeze in the air but she didn’t really mind it. There were a few who had braved the cold winter’s morn to come to cheer the runners on. 

She took her spot, like she had done a number of times before, waiting for the runners to pass by. As they passed by she smiled and put out her hand. Some saw her but ignored her choosing to focus on the road ahead. Others completely ignored her and went about with their run without missing a beat. But for every runner that ignored there were others who saw her and returned her hi five with a smile on their face. At times she swerved from the impact, but she never lost her smile.

To the outside world she seemed like a little old lady in a red coat, but what they didn’t know she was a runner herself, would always be a runner. Though she had stopped running that didn’t stop her from supporting other runners, and that’s why she returned to that spot every year.

Once she was asked why did she come out in the cold to cheer runners when so many runners just ignored her and went about with their run. She just smiled explained that running brought her joy, and though she didn’t run now, it still brought her happiness to see so many others take it up. This happiness brought a smile on her face, fueled it, and she knew when someone hi fived her back, this energy, this fuel, passed on to them, magically. When they smiled back they remembered to relax, and when they relaxed they enjoyed their run more, they experienced the run better, felt stronger, ended up doing better, from her magical touch. She bore no ill will to those who ignored her, she knew they were focused on their run and didn’t want to break their rhythm and focus, so went about with their run, and were perfectly right in doing so. She was there to for those who needed her the most.

Saying this she was greeted with a big hug from a runner who came across the road just to hug and thank her, who then continued with her run. She in turn continued to stretch out her hand, hi fiving the runners, cheering them on as they went by.

Reminiscing the Night Away

They sat there on the front porch, by the fire, slowly sipping their whiskey, reminiscing about a starry night just like this, quite a long ago that now it seemed like another lifetime. They were young and brave and full of life and were not prepared to die.

They strummed and hummed to calm themselves down, while they could hear distance sounds of drums. Though they didn’t admitted it then but were not afraid to say it now that the sounds of drums and bugle call almost made them cry. As that night went by, every minute, every hour felt like a day. With every passing moment they could hear the sounds of guns and roar of canon, approaching closer that it made them cry out of fear.

But then something stirred within they. They were so afraid that couldn’t be afraid anymore. They realised why they joined the fight, for liberty, for freedom. There was something in the air that night, the stars shone so bright, as if they shone brightly for them, as they fought valiantly, fought bravely, filling them with a sense that they could not lose, they didn’t have any regrets.

Now they were old and grey and its been many years since they held a rifle in their hand. But they could still hear the beating of the drums, the bugle call, the roaring of the guns and the booming of the canons as they crossed the river grand. They could see the pride in each other’s eye as they fought for freedom of this land. 

And through it all they found each other, a life in each other, a companion in each other, but they still longed for that life that now seemed to have passed them by. They longed for action, for purpose in their mundane lives. If they had to do the same again, they would without any hesitation or fear, they would fight for freedom for the lands.

And as they reminisced about that starry night, so long ago, they fell to sleep on that porch, before that burning fire, but holding each other’s hand.

City Lights

As he parked his vehicle he glanced at his watch. He was early which meant that he had a couple of minutes to himself before she arrived. He checked himself in the mirror, making some quick adjustments to his hair and bow tie and his messages. 

A few minutes later, right on the dot, he saw her get off the cab. The sight of her took his breath away. She was a beauty to behold. However, he felt that that gown did no justice to her beauty, but simplicity was her style which carried with elan, with confidence, even though she never thought of herself that way. He was amazed by how beautiful she could be while keeping it all simple. She had never ceased to amaze him. 

She smiled at him as she noticed his car, making his heart skip a beat, well a couple of beats. She got into the car and settled in the seat next to him. She leaned forward and pecked him on his cheek, whispering in ears “How do I look?” He looked at her and smiled and just whispered back these few words, as if he didn’t want anyone but her to hear them. “My darling you look wonderful tonight.”

As they drove he couldn’t help but wonder how did he get so lucky? How could someone so beautiful (though she never acknowledged it) fall in love with him? They were as similar as chalk and cheese. He was the popular jock when he first met her. She was studious kind, fiercely independent, intelligent, radiating strength and confidence. They were polar opposite of each other, but in their differences they were whole, they completed each other. It was their differences which held them together rather than tearing them apart.

Although the party was his, she was the centre of everyone’s attention, as she floated across the room, greeting his friends and acquaintances. Wherever she went heads turned and eyes followed and egos burned. He became the envy of every man in the room. She wasn’t his arm candy and he wouldn’t treat her like one. She was his equal. Although parties weren’t really her thing, she was totally at ease. She didn’t have to put on any sort of act. He felt privileged to have her by his side.

That night, after they left the party, they decided to take a walk instead of heading directly for his car. They came to bench from you could see the entire city. The lights of the city shown like diamonds in the dark of night, mirroring the stars in the inky blue night sky. This was their place, a bench where they spent many evenings and mornings, admiring the sight in front of them, many sunsets and sunrises, sometimes not even uttering a single word, just enjoying each other’s company, each other’s presence, taking in the world in front of them, the city lights.

As they sat on the bench he felt something inside him stirred, nudging him to come to a realisation that it was time. She was the one for him, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He wouldn’t want to lay claim to her, he never thought of her that way. He knew she belonged to him as much as he belonged to her. But she was fiercely independent and he wouldn’t have her any other way. It was now or never.

As he turned to her, she whispered “How was I tonight?” He knew she was teasing him as she always did when she wanted to playful get in the first word, trying to confuse him with what he wanted to say. He smiled and said, “My darling you were wonderful tonight.” Then taking her hand in his, looking into her eyes, he said, “Will you be mine?” 

He didn’t have to say anything else, he knew that she understood what it meant, she knew him quite well. He didn’t have to make any grand gestures or use any eloquent words. He knew she wouldn’t want that. Those simple words was all she needed. 

She looked at him and smiled, and with that he got his answer. She didn’t have to say anything. The look in her eyes, her smile was her answer.Still holding her hand he took out a box that he had with him for a while now, waiting for the right time, and this moment was it. He took out the ring and gently slipped it on her finger. She pulled him towards her and kissed him with all the love she felt for him, all the love she had in her. Sitting on that bench they took a leap forward, pledging their love to each other. They continued to kiss on the bench with the city in the background and the city lights, star lights, glistening brightly in celebration of their union.

When I kissed the Teacher

I was having one of those days where nothing seemed to go my way. I just wanted to go and crawl into a ball, and hide away, to wake to what seemed like a bad dream. Just then the bell rang and he walked into the classroom, and I knew that everything would change soon.

I Don’t know why but I began to swoon, lighted and giddy, feeling like a fool. Maybe it was the way the sunlight fell on his or just that I had harboured a major crush on the man with that face. Nothing seemed to reach me when he began to teach. All I could do is sit and stare at that face that visited me a thousand times in my dreams. I didn’t mind that I learned nothing, or I was in class full of students, in that moment it was just him and me, we had an eternal connection.

And when he asked us to solve a problem, all I could do is stare blankly at those words on the page, for words made no sense to me. I just sat there not knowing what to do, feeling like quite the fool.

Suddenly I felt a familiar presence. He stood next to asking me what happened  and offered his guidance. His mere presence, next to me, put it me in trance. His fragrance, his scent, intoxicated my senses, making me high, making me drunk by mere presence. I knew it was now or never, I would never get a chance like this. What happened next was not very clear, my brain fogged, the moment was a blur. As he bended over to explain, I leant forward and just kissed him, in plain sight.

In that moment, the whole class went quiet. You could hear a pin drop if a pin have dropped that very moment. The class were stunned, they did not know  what to do, they had never seen the teacher blush, he looked quite the fool. I just sat there with bathed breath, not sure how react. I just held my breath waiting for him to react. My world just came to a still, I reprimanded myself for acting like a crazy fool.

Low and behold he finally did smile, bringing a sense of relief, I let out a sigh. My friends cheered and the whole screamed. They seem to be rooting for me cause I managed to pull a fast one and realised what I had just done. I felt like I was on seventh heaven, it all felt like a dream. I knew I needed to tell how I did feel, and tell him that he had been in dreams.

Then suddenly I felt a whack at the back of my head, bringing me back to my sense, making realise it was only just dream. My class laughed and teased as I stood looking quite dumb, as teacher scolded me for day dreaming like a sill bum. But all this didn’t matter to me, cause I had kissed teacher, even if it was just in my dreams.

The Woman with the bright pink shoes

He spied her from a distance, she in her racerback vest and floral shorts, whose colour kept changing with the season, but always in her bright pink shoes. She was a woman, not a girl, not a lady, but a woman, the best word to describe her. Tall, slender and athletic, with hair that was always tied in ponytail, a dusky beauty. Her racerback vest showed off her toned back, arms and shoulders, her slender waist and those washboard abs. But her most distinct feature was her legs that seemed to go on for miles and miles, only to end in those bright pink shoes. 

Unperturbed by the stares that she usually got from passerby, some envious, others lecherous, she went about with her warm up. Surely there’s a God up there, he thought, cause only a God could create  someone so beautiful. He continued to stare in her direction, not lustily, just admiring God’s creation.

His greyish hair was already matted with sweat and there were beads his forehead. He was already warmed up and ready to go, from the distance he had already covered. He could either make haste and join her, or take his time and take in the moment. 

He remembered those initial days when they just passed each other, while on their respective morning runs, She a young beautiful woman, running at her pace, he an old man, with more silver hair than he could count, running at a pace than most men of his age (that’s if they ever ran), in his bright neon tees. Soon they began to acknowledge each other with a smile and a wave and the occasional thumbs up. Now as and when possible they ran together, two running souls. He never asked her name or what she did, nor did she seem interested in finding out more about him. For him she would always  be the Woman with the bright Pink Shoes.

“Your pace or mine?” She said, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Surprise me!” He said but secretly hoping she ran at his pace as that would be comfortable for him, something that he would never acknowledge, call it the male bravado.

So off they went, running in the light drizzle. He knew he would be the envy of those who saw them, some even passing judgement without truly knowing. But he didn’t care, people may never understand that they were running souls, enjoying each other’s company, nothing more, nothing else.

Not wanting to slow her down, he tried his best to keep pace with her. Occasionally she realised this and slowed down to a comfortable pace but then again gradually increase her  pace again. Not a single word was spoken between them, they only spoke with each other in gesture.

He was grateful for her company, for running with a person of his age when she could have been easily be running at a much faster pace, more suitable to someone of her capability. He was grateful for the drizzle cause it hid the tears that welled in his eyes. He didn’t want her to see it but secretly knew that she understood how grateful he was to her.

And just like that their run came to an end after they had covered their set distance. After cooling down and some stretches, they said their goodbyes and greetings for the day they went off to their mundane life. He stood there, looking in her direction, as those long slender legs of the woman in the bright pink shoes disappeared into the the day.