Search fearlessly for every sin, for out of sin comes joy
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After a few minutes of confusion at the bus station where he had just got off, which in the meantime had him absorbing scenes of local life as he stood like a lost puppy - every banal act made into a Haiku with the yellow tint of the autumn - and her circling the wrong block thrice, she finally picked her up.
They seemed in a pleasant state from their short exchange of words in her car. Their eyes were still hesitant to settle comfortably in each other's presence, fleeting about like sparrows between anything of minor detail, but the other person. They finally got to her doorstep; a nice, polished teakwood welcome for him. He was nervous of all the new colors inside that he'd have to confront. What the home of an MD looked like, he had no idea. Any such outing was generally a savage affair for his senses - "your invitation enough is distressing to my intestines," as he used to tell his friends. But that nervous feeling was pushed aside by another churning his senses subjected him to.
As soon as they entered her home, he flung the bag to one corner, and as its motion came to cease under the showcase holding her medical degree, he gave her a deep loving stare; their eyes finally met to lock in on each other. He held her face in his palms. Something transcendental in anticipation. And their lips locked in a kiss. This was the sensory overload that offset his anxiety about the interiors - her warmth, her scent, the resonating - albeit with a goat-like tonality - of her voice in his ears. Their kiss lasted for 3, or maybe 4 hours, neither of them willing to let go, not because they could not be without each other, inseparable and all that, but because they'd been without each other all these years which had left them in a sudden void of a more innocent childhood they once knew. It was some kind of assurance that they were still the same.
Love for the other never brings people to these kind of things; its a selfish ulterior motive of selfishness, of reclaiming a snapshot of their life, of being lost in play, that brings them here.
we have drifted apart so many times, but like magnets, our fields pull us little by little to bring us back again, o blog.
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