The Red-light

At the traffic signal, a man used to count the time in his mind along with the displayed countdown, waiting eagerly for it to turn Green again.

Read on to find out why he used to count the time along with the timer and why once he wanted the time to stop there.

… …

He turned the accelerator knob towards himself, and trying to turn it more and more, wishing the bike to run faster. But it didn’t. By the time he could cross the puzzle of other confused newbie drivers, the traffic signal had turned yellow and the traffic police had raised his hand signaling the vehicles to stop. He was diligent towards the law and so he slowed the bike to stop at the red-light.

He was the first one at the signal. All before him had somehow got past the police and had rushed past the cross roads, some even breaking the red-light. Slowly the empty spaces around his vehicle and the crossing in front of him started to fill up with more vehicles. He hated those drivers who went past the stopped vehicles, only to stop ahead of them, blocking the pedestrian crossing area.

He started whistling. It took him away from all the noise of horns (which made no sense as the signal was red, no one was gonna fly out of their way), heated engines of cars (which made no sense either, the signal was gonna stay red till a few minutes), the cries of the kids in someone’s lap, sitting pillion to the rider (which made no sense to him, the kids, they are just stupid to cry all the time without any cause, he thought).

His whistle soon took over his mind and him away from all these noise. He enjoyed the ups and downs, the variations on the scale of the song, the beautiful tune that several sounds made when joined together, the words that he spoke in his mind while whistling. It all was beautiful, the music was.

This was his routine. But that day, someone else was also listening to him at that time. He didn’t notice. But a girl on her bike, standing right next to him, was listening to him with her full attention. She had even removed her helmet to hear it clearly. She enjoyed music too. And this was something different, yet musical and amazingly beautiful. There was a smile on her face all the time she listened to him.

The countdown was still twenty more seconds, and people had already started inching past the yellow line. Only he waited till it actually turned zero before starting his bike. He ignored the people around him, punching their horns at him, giving him angry looks. He started moving and looked to his left in surprise, someone was staring at him. He gestured her to move and went on with his way. But in his mind he thought about her all day.

The next day, the scene was repeated. But this time, he saw her while whistling and had stopped instantly. The girl gestured him to continue whistling and he had continued. He loved whistling and she loved him doing it. They met every day at that same signal at the very same hour of the day, where for one-two whole minutes they would share a musical moment.

From watching the countdown, waiting to race away from the traffic signal, he started counting the timer in his head, wanting it to run slower, wanting the time to stop. He wanted to just whitle and watch that girl give him the most amazing smile he has ever seen in this world. There were people who loved his whistle, but he had never felt the way he felt for her and her love for him whistling.

As the timer in his head reached the last few seconds, he would gracefully end his song and bade goodbye with his eyes, to which the girl would reply similarly with her eyes. They spoke nothing, yet it felt to both of them that they had an amazing conversation with each other. They went on with their opposite paths from that signal, with a smile on their faces, a rare sight for that crossing.

From loathing the signals on that road, he started loving the red-light and the traffic. He wanted the rush to stay. He wanted it to be like this forever. And the day when they didn’t meet, he felt very bad that he didn’t whistle at all that day. Those two minutes at the red-light made or broke his day, all depending on if he meets her or not.

And a similar day came once when he couldn’t see her. He was late, and would surely miss her if he didn’t drive fast. So, he went past several shortcuts, didn’t wait for pedestrians and dodged his way past confused newbie drivers to reach there on time. He was just a crossroad away from that signal. But there was a lot of traffic at that signal. People were gathered on the middle of the road and there was total chaos of vehicles.

He took a detour, and reached his signal, ditching that jam-packed crossroad. He checked on his clock, for a hundredth time now, and sighed a breath of relief that he had reached on time. But she wasn’t there yet. So, he waited for another red-light, probably she was late too. But she didn’t come, probably had taken a day off. He left for his routine, restless to meet her tomorrow. He was finally gonna ask her out, tomorrow for sure.

The next day, it was raining. He reached the spot on time. The traffic was less, and signals were empty, but she was not there. Probably she would’ve gone early today due to the rains, he thought.

The day after that, he reached the signal again on time. But he couldn’t meet her. And it was the same news the next day, and the day after that too. He felt sad and wanted to find her. But he didn’t even know her name or contact number. His days went sore and in distress, as he was helpless, unable to find the mystery girl whom he wanted to share his life with.

One such time, he was restlessly looking around at the red-light for a sign of her. He didn’t even count the timer in his mind this time. All he wanted was to see her again. An old man came riding a bike and stood right where she used to. He was bothered that now even if she comes, she won’t be able to stand right next to him. He looked at the old man in anger. He saw that the old man had a sad face and probably, tears out of his eyes. Or may be it was just due to the wind while driving.

He looked at his bike. And for a moment, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was hers. May be he was mistaken. But that same rusty chocolate color, that lightning sticker on the side, that broken leg-guard and a golden cloth tied up at the mirror clamp. There was a newly formed dent on the front body and the side-light was broken, mirrors skewed. But it was definitely the same bike. He wished he could remember the license plate number.

He looked at the old man and couldn’t resist asking “Umm… Sir? Morning sir. If you don’t mind, may I ask if this is your bike or borrowed? A friend of mine owns a similar colored one and I am a little confused about it…” He couldn’t complete his sentence. The old man broke down and started crying right there at the signal.

The red-light had turned green and there were several horns blowing around them, telling them to move, but he was more interested in something else. He asked the old man “What happened, sir? Are you alright?” and slowly patted the old man’s shoulders.

The signal turned red again. And there were several curse-words being thrown at the pair from surrounding drivers.

“The… The bike is… was of my d… my daughter…” the old man uttered with great difficulty.

It was the old man crying, but he felt a choke in his throat. He couldn’t speak anything. He understood what had happened. He was stupid enough to not realize this earlier. The dents, the broken side light and the new scratches told him the story and reminded him of the day it happened. He knew what had happened, but he wished it hadn’t.

“It was my daughter’s. She recently met with an accident and she… she died. I am taking it to the broker… Brings too many painful memories. You knew her?” The old man asked him.

With some resistance at first, he shook his head, unable to speak anything.

The signal turned green and the old man slowly rode away. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He stood there, waiting for the red-light to turn back on, counting the timer in his head, and tears from his eyes…

Now he goes past the same traffic signal everyday, waits at the red-light, sees fellow riders around him, but doesn’t count the timer in his head anymore… Doesn’t whistle anymore.

The Bird – Finding a nest

A series of stories of a bird who leaves his parents’ nest and moves on to live his life in his own way.


While finding a dwelling place, he missed his home and remembered how it was on the day he left that place, forever.


… …

The wind was gushing past his dark brown feathers while he had his strong, young wings fully spread in the sky. He was flying since several suns now. And he hadn’t been able to find a place to crash so far. He flew from forests to abandoned buildings to rural campsites to urban localities. But all the places were either occupied or weren’t free from human breech. At all the places, he was either shooed off by other birds or by mankind.

He was in constant upheaval since the time he moved out of his parents nest. He clearly remembered that day when his mother had told him that now he had grown into an adult bird and had to go on his own path, while Dad had looked at him from his usual watch-spot, doing his duty of precautionary lookout.

Dad had taught him all the survival and combat measures. And mother had taught him to fly, to stay full and everything else. He had looked into their faces for the one last time, a long moment before leaving that old house-top, forever.

He had flown up into the sky with his newly trained, strong, young wings. He had pictured mother and father watching him fly away from the ground below, but had not turned his head to look back. It was difficult to move on. It would be impossible to go if he looked back. A tear had escaped his eyes and had flown in the gushing wind past his feathers in the sky, then had started to descend down towards the ground.

On the old house-top, mother had been strong so far. She was watching his son fly high in the sky, not looking back, his strong boy. But then she felt it. She felt a pain in her heart, she knew her son was sad somehow. She flew in a blink, the father was too slow to stop her. He was in his own dilemma. Dad watched his son fly, tearing the wind. He wanted to say something to him before he left. He wanted to bite him over his head and cuddle him before he left for his long journey. He wanted to fly a few miles with him, making sure he remembers his lessons. But he couldn’t. He was Dad after-all. He has to maintain his strong composure. May be next time he sees him, he will say things, he will let himself break emotionally.

The mother flew, but not towards her son. She flew on the ground in the same direction as he did. He shouldn’t know how she felt. That would only make it more difficult for him. But she wanted to see the most of him before his son was gone out of her reach. She flew right below him, giving quick glances towards him in the sky, while dodging all the obstacles on the ground. She took a sudden bent in her path to duck a street light and did a barrel roll. While she was half-way through the barrel roll, with her wings open towards the sky, a drop of water had fallen on her chest. And she had stopped right there after completing the barrel roll. Her heart could make out what the drop of water was – the same make as the one that rushed out of her eyes at the moment.

They would be proud, but scared as well till the time he proves himself worthy by living out in the open world without their protection, he thought. And so he moved swiftly, but without watching the path. His mind wasn’t in the flying, his wings were doing it for him. He will move from one place to another, till the time he found a safe shelter. May be some day, he will have a place where he could invite them to stay with him, if he sees them again.

That Hide & Seek Game

Remembering that hide n seek game and those series of emotions that flowed in the hidden light of the night’s darkness.

… …

We were running frantically towards the end of the street. We had 30 more counts before he would open his eyes and would see us running, holding hands…

My heart was pounding, not just because we were running out of our breaths, but because we were running together. Without any prior planning, we both had simply looked at each other and at that second had decided that we were gonna hide together in this game.

She was holding my hand so tightly, almost pulling me along with her. Probably her excitement was more than mine, or probably her fear. She didn’t look back, towards her brother, who was counting with his eyes closed up against the tree. She was a rebel, and that day she showed it.

The count was almost complete. All of our other friends had already chosen their hiding place and were almost invisible unless, ofcourse you knew already their usual hiding place. We knew where everyone used to hide, quite easy to mark an area where each one of them used to hide. We were running towards a new area altogether.

He announced his hunt beginning with a roar, declaring that soon he’s gonna catch all of us.

I smiled. “Not us, not today.”

We took a sharp left at the end of the street and then a right and disappeared in the maze of turns, till when we reached a deserted neighborhood leading to a dead-end.

We looked for a place where we could hide, from everyone. There was an old van, rusting at the end of the street. It was dark, and probably this part of the neighborhood had no residents. Not even stray animals could be seen. Was it luck or something fishy; Mr. Fate’s prior warning before he hits hard, I thought.

We went behind the van. It was parked right ahead of a street parkbench, such that the bench was not visible in any way unless you move around the car all the way to its back.

We went and hid behind the bench. We felt like tiny people as we could easily be hidden behind the bench from head to toe.

She finally let go of my hands. Holding hands… So pure, simple, emotional, and sweaty… Uncomfortable.

I sat there rubbing my hands on my jeans, slowly wiping off the sweat of it. Just then, she grabbed my shirt and pulled it so hard that I was pulled along with it. She asked in an anxious tone “They won’t be able find us here, will they?”

I was about to shrug when she herself said “No they won’t. This is the perfect place.”

I continued staring at her. She was beautiful beyond my ability to describe her beauty. So I won’t. But yes, she was way beyond my league.

We sat there talking about various possibilities, fantasies about what could happen if they catch us here. She was not willing to become the seeker, no matter what. Almost all of her plans had me showing myself up and then taking the seeker with me, keeping her safe. So much for the game, I thought. But in the end, she will again say “Nah! I won’t let you go…”

Time passed, rather quickly than I thought (read ‘than I wanted’). She occasionally touched my hands, and I rather skillfully took my hands away. Hey! Don’t judge me! It was summer and I hated sweat. I’d rather prefer something equally emotional and direct, not involving sweat.

I think she sensed it too, as her lips had tightened and she was looking at me without blinking, from my eyes to my neck, and back. Her neck was tilted and I could almost hear her heart beats, which were risen way up above normal excitement level.

There was mumbling sound nearby and then a ruckus, and our whole gang, one after other, appeared out of nowhere in the street that we were hiding in. They were laughing at the seeker, who had been trying to find them since last half hour, but had no luck in doing that. (It was half an hour already?!!)

I saw them coming towards us, scanning and analyzing the street for some good hiding place, and then I saw her pale and disappointed face. She was looking at me, her expressions were hard to describe. But they said “Damn!”

I gave her the ‘its fine’ expression and she nodded.

We had not disclosed anything to each other yet about our desires or intentions or imaginations, but I think they would have been same for both of us. We couldn’t do what we wanted to do that day, but being 10 year old toddlers, we hardly cared. We soon blended with out friends and forgot the whole episode.

Now I don’t even remember what was it that we wanted to do that time, but it doesn’t matter. After all, what could possibly be in an innocent 10 year olds mind!?

Difficult Expressions: Love vs. Hate

There are tons of expressions that we can express through various gestures, signs and sounds. But expressing each of those expressions takes different level of confidence and inclination from our inside. If not found, we would find it difficult to express those expressions freely to that person.

So, which expression is difficult to express when compared to the other? The act of expressing should be to the person for whom that expression was made in the first place.

This battle is between two most felt feelings in the world – Love and Hate.

… …

Love. A feeling so strong that can be expressed in tons and tons of ways to the person for whom we feel so. Sometimes, it can even be expressed without doing anything. And the person for whom we feel so, often can feel or sense our feelings for them.

Hate. A feeling equally strong as love, again which can be expressed in several ways to the person we hate. And the other person mostly understands that we hate them unless we hide our feelings through fake expressions and false greetings.

Often love is difficult to hide from people, but the other person might not understand your feeling and can confuse it with something else.

Hate can be confused, though very rarely, with greed, selfish desires and a feature of our nature. But, it can be faked and kept hidden from the person we hate using acted expressions of care and gratitude.

Both expressions have their own definition and complexities, which when mixed with human desires and intentions, can create a compound, altogether a new feeling. But if all other factors are kept constant, and we talk only about expressing our love or our hate for the person to the person himself / herself, then we can compare which of the two expressions is difficult to express – generally speaking.

Often Love wins the battle and the title of being a difficult expression to express of the two expressions in question. It is easy for us to express our hate to the person we hate. Why so? Well, there are reasons, very clear.

Love is often misunderstood by us. A casual liking or a temporary attraction for someone is often labelled as Love. And for this reason, it is often failed expression or a feared one as we feel that our love might turn out to be something else or might be misunderstood.

As we love the person, we get scared about our expression not expressed properly. We don’t want our loved one to feel sad, or leave us, or hate us in turn. That’s why, we are more conscious and, thus, more scared.

On the other hand, hate is often expressed with disgust or anger in a surge. We don’t care for the person. We don’t care if the person understands us differently than the way we want. We don’t care if the person gets hurt by us or doesn’t talk to us ever… And that is why, we don’t carry burden while expressing hate to someone.

But, even hate can be tricky to express, if hate is mixed with other factors such as our nature to be likable with everyone around us, or hate mixed with care for the person, or gratitude towards other person’s good nature against our hate… All this can make expressing hate complicated.

If you have any such incident where you had difficulties expressing your love or hate, share with me…

According to you, which feeling is difficult to express for you? Love? Or Hate?

She Almost Loved Me

Almost a fictional narrative about a girl who loved me…
… …

Not every one finds true love in their lives. And of those who do, not everyone can realise that fact before already losing them.

I woke up with a grim face. It was Sunday morning and I got up from my slumped position on my bed when the doorbell rang.

I walked up to door without giving a second look to nothing to my way and came back without looking who it was once I opened the door. Nothing mattered to me, except that I wanted to go back to sleep.

Soon I got bored of sleeping, I woke up and took a bath, dressed up and prepared my breakfast. I switched on the TV as that was what I was gonna do for the whole day. I put a random channel with some movie going on and sat infront of the screen.

I didn’t even realize that clock completed three whole rotations and I was sitting at the same place since morning till noon. I had to go for my lunch somewhere.

I entered a random restaurant and ate whatever they served on the plate.

After returning back home, I slumped back on the couch and took my phone in my hand for the first time since waking up. There were several notifications, which I casually swiped through, half even without reading.

While doing that, I saw a notification of a new profile update by her. I quickly opened that notification and stared at her beautiful face for quite a while. She wore a baby pink tee with khakhi shorts and matching star shaped earnings. Her eyes were round and teasing as always. She made a mouse face like a child and all I felt was pain…

In our lives, we are given several opportunities to find happiness. The catch here is that if you fail at finding that limited stock of happiness, you’d definitely find unlimited stock of grief…

There was a time when we were totally crazy into our friendship. We used to talk only occasionally, but whenever we did, we really hit it off.

I still remember when I first met her at a birthday party of my friend and our journey started from then. We stayed in different States and could hardly meet, but that never reduced our emotions for each other.

We used to share our deepest secrets and our deepest fears with each other. We used to help each other in the weirdest of all problems and used to handle the other person’s bothersome habits.

But somehow, in the game of balancing on the string of emotions, we somehow forget that one little jerk may cause a painfull fall.

I completed writing down another story for my blog. It was almost evening and time for exercise. I started doing it as hard as I could, trying to give me more and more difficulty.

Now-a-days I enjoyed watching myself in pain. A day without some trouble wouldn’t count as a day for me at all. And when in some trouble, I would let me suffer to my heart’s content before coming out of it.

Not always, but at times, pain is the best medicine for a hurt heart.

After my workout, I walked out in the balcony to watch kids playing. Watching them play was comforting for me in these otherwise ho-hum days. I missed playing table tennis with her. We had played only once when we met after two years of our friendship on her birthday in her town. That day is engrossed in my mind eternally.

The screensaver started on my laptop which brought me back to this world. I was lost thinking about the time we were together. I saw our photos of the trip to Manali. It was ecstatic watching our pics. We were so great together. But then, not all can maintain the balance in a relationship. And I was poor in that.

One thing led to other and other thing led to another. We were fighting over petty issues. And she brooded at me for several days. I being of that nature never realized that she was sulky due to that incident. I had forgotten that fight the next morning I woke up, but she was very hurt.

After that fight, she used to tell me all the things that she ignored earlier in me and how that made her feel sad and stewed due to my behavior. And I got more and more agitated for the fact that she had never mentioned these things before and we were so good together, how did these things come in between us!

Soon her behavior changed. Her emotions for me were wearing off. She was moving away from me while I was still trying to identify the issue that led to this time in our relationship. All things aside, but she couldn’t heal off the holes left in her heart by my thorns, my actions.

Emotionally hurt person has scars all over the body, just not visible. With each breath that he takes, with each pump of blood in his veins, those scars are touched again, are scraped again, with the claws of his broken heart, trying to stay alive…

She was a girl who understood me more than myself. And she knew that I wouldn’t be able to understand what she felt or why she is changing. And so she moved, slowly, away from me. She knew that this would scar us both, but she did it for her happiness. She would have always felt graveled with my behavior and attitude towards life. And she left, without breaking me into pieces, without tearing me apart… But without her, what was I, a scrambled soul.

As we had never told each other about our love for each other, there was no breaking up. It was just a parallel shift from being great together to just being us, not together.

Even today we talk and share a laugh or two. But times have changed. It is not the same as before and it won’t ever be. She took a turn in her life and moved on to be happy. While I’m standing on that turn, thinking about where to go, as without her there’s no journey left in my life.

My phone rang and my friends were meeting up for a late night party and booze. I got ready and walked in the party with a big smile on my face. My friends cheered me welcome as being the most beaming person of the group.

Up above the stars watched me spread joy and humor in the group with my, sometimes pesky, sense of humor. But the moon went behind the dark clouds, so that he had not to see me as I acted out my condition infront of the world.

At night, I try not to remember her. For if I let it be, I wouldn’t want to wake up from my dreams. I will see those dreams when I finally lie on my last bed.

Togetherness ought to be the biggest sin, for it takes away the life out of our heart when it finally stays no more…

I Almost Understood Her

While I have had several such occasions where I almost had a love story, but every time it was pretty clear how the things were going on. But in this particular case, I got ridiculed every time I thought I understood her.

So here it goes…

I didn’t see (read as notice) her for several days since we got acquainted. It was at her birthday that I first stopped to take a good glance at her. When I wished her, she returned her thanks with a pleasant smile on her face, that was when I got fascinated the way she carried herself.

But soon that tide passed away and things got normal.

Then one day, I had a chance to communicate with her for more than a few minutes, and the discussion was pure professional work. But her personality enchanted me. Apart from being a pretty face, she also had sharp observation and a smart approach to everything she did.

Soon we started communicating more and I got to know her creative side. And I started opening up myself to her. But then, suddenly on one bloody day, it all went back to the day we started. As if I had just time traveled into past, our confab just stopped. She would reply if I initiate a talk, but not with the same interest as earlier.

I tried going through the previous days and tried to find anything that I did that might have pissed her off, as that happens a lot with me. But in this case, I just couldn’t find anything for her weird behavior.

Again, the time-glass turned, and she wished me morning on her own without any initiation from my side, whatsoever. I had just accepted her weirdness around me and had stopped talking to her. But her change to convivial attitude confused me. There she was turning her head away when our eyes met, and again she is all cheerful and friendly.

I let it flow without giving much efforts into the sudden change. As her mood was right, we took our respites together. Games and movies were also tried and tested. And it worked for while.

But as every dawn as a dusk following, her cheerful and friendly nature had irritated and uninterested nature followed up. She stopped coming for those breaks and movie sessions. She turned down any hangout plan that I or any one in the group offered. And I let it flow this time even. As still, it was unclear to me what was in her mind.

Her birthday returned and I wished her in my own style. That overwhelmed her and I had expected a mood change this time, since this was her down-time going on. And yes, her up-time did come, but lasted just two days. This totally confounded me. I couldn’t think that I understand her any longer. Her weirdness was way above my ken to understand. And that pinched me for a while, but my cold-blooded dispassionate self helped me get over it easily.

Such series of her up-time with me and her down-time with me continued after that. While I keep heed of any taking-advantage scenario, nevertheless, I followed her cycles without much regard for it.

I stopped thinking about why she behaves like that and what’s there in her mind. I stopped finding adjectives from good side and from bad side for her.

Like seasons, I see her come and go, rise and fall. Like clouds in the sky, I see her, but never try to reach to her. There was a time when I almost understood her. But now, I have stopped trying to…

Almost… A Test Drive

image

It was a summer afternoon and the sunlight was turning even my soul dark! 😛

I had not expected that in that scorching heat I’d find such a soothing experience… A fan!! (Actually, I convinced myself that the fan had helped me with the heat). So the real story goes like this…

On our way back to our office after having lunch, me and my colleagues saw an exhibition for a newly launched car. One of my colleague was planning to buy a car, so we went to check it out.

The car was placed in such a way that it would look stunning from each angle. People were examining it in all the ways – ogling her headlights, contemplating her design, checking out her interior, scrutinizing her comfort specs, and surveying her technical specifications from the representative.

My colleague started analysing the car too. A representative from the car company attended him and gave him a walkthrough about the car. After the briefing, my friend even tried his comfort inside the car by sitting on each of the seats.

All this while, I was standing peacefully in front of a fan. It was an amazing idea… A small water pipe with a tiny opening was attached just on the face of the fan. Due to that, constantly tiny water sprinkles were sprayed by the fan over the people. And in that heat, it gave an amazing cooling experience.

I was observing all the people around me. I wasn’t planning to buy the car and hence took no interest in the tour. But something else caught my eye… Or I should say – someone.

A simple, yet extraordinarily beautiful girl stood in front of me. She wore a simple white tee and blue jeans. She had her hair open. She moved with elegance that made a sharp impression. She talked in a manner that she could even convince a devil to be good.

She wore no makeup but just a little touchup over her lips. She wore a sports looking but classy watch and her nail paint had some sort of design. Her shoes were neat. And one couldn’t look more elegant than that.

She moved briskly from one person to other, offering them the template of the car and a gift from the company.

I didn’t notice her till she herself came to me. And after which, I couldn’t stand a second without noticing her. All the above observations were after we talked.

She came to me and said, giving me the gifts, – “This is for you… Sir.” The pause between her words and ‘Sir’ seemed deliberate.

I was totally occupied with her smile, but I managed to reply – “Thank you so much, but I am not planning to buy the car. You should instead offer these gifts to my friend over there who’s actually checking out the car…” (Ah! How can she smile like this!!)

She replied with a teasing smile on her face – “I know that. Your friend would also receive our gifts from someone else. But this one is for you… You keep it.” and she walked away, with her poking smile and her dangling hair…

I was so into her, her personality, her style, and that smile… that I couldn’t do anything after that… Yes… Nothing at all! (Yes I know I’m an idiot)

We exchanged a few glances after that. But she was busy attending the people and I was busy talking to my colleague, (or listening to him talk about the car features to me). I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but her. And then my colleagues took me from there and back to office.

But I couldn’t resist myself from thinking about her. Her smile – that would light up the night like the stars in the sky. All I wanted was to have one more chat with her. This time I wouldn’t be such a loser. But that ‘this time’ never came. I lost the opportunity and the opportunity lost me…

The exhibition was only for that day. I knew nothing of her – name, contact, nothing… Not even a sign that I could use to find her. That night, I kept on staring at the gifts she gave me. I thought, could it be different? I wished it to be… I wished it would’ve been more.

Another chance lost due to my sheepish manoeuvre of the situation. Another incomplete story.

A test drive, almost…