A letter from.....

Hey there missus, may I ask you "how do you do?",

Here I am writing a letter that wouldn't reach you,

In a place where the skies are always light blue,

But no telephone, no postbox, no communication tool.

60 odd years that I had to spend with you,

Those last 60 days that I had to put you through.

I heard every single word, felt your every light touch,

Though my dear blur one, you hadn't the faintest clue.

The morning paper always found its way to my breakfast table,

You somehow knew that without it, I just couldn't do,

For 60 mornings when my body had refused to move,

I heard your voice reading me every page of news, 

Silly woman, you read even the weather forecast too.

Your voice was the balm to all my aching wound,

I hated the sound and smell of my hospital room,

But the moment you walk in even before sunrise, I knew,

I'll be comforted till twilight by the smell of your perfume,

& listening to the soft sounds you make when you gently move,

I looked forward to the caresses of your callused palms,

How they were simply made to perfectly fit mine,

Through our slippery path and rough rides through time,

You were my unseen strength, my hidden source of calm.

You apologized, that our Alan ain't smart like the rest,

Well, he has always been the dullest in our little nest.

He takes after your father, I realized later, no fault of yours nor mine,

It's random gene selection, probability was a little unkind.

I see you now, walking around our house looking for things to do,

Is your knee troubling you? You have 3 legs now, not 2...

Stop checking the doors again and again... like you always do!

I sit on our porch at night, no harm will come upon you.

When the time comes for you to say your last goodbye,

Don't hold back, don't try to breathe and please don't cry.

Trust me on this, this one time you'll love to lose the fight,

It's the  answer to the wish you made to the stars last night,

I'm coming to take you with me in about a fortnight,

To a place where the moonlight shines through daylight,

Once again we'll laugh till we cry, we'll fight, we reunite,

Our new life begins, my dear, the minute after you die,

Come here... love me just the way you had loved me till my death,

Come here.... let me love you the way I had till my very last breath.

paranoia......

"Ok, boss. See you tomorrow...... ;-) "

The short message had given her a tiny jolt last night.

Friendly wink? Cheeky wink?

She did the next sensible thing. She checked his other folders.

SENT ITEMS : EMPTY

OUTBOX : EMPTY

DRAFTS : EMPTY

There's something that she was missing. It was woman's instinct. 

Reading between the lines was exhausting. And now, 19 hours post-message-reading, she was drained....after another day with Trish, listening to her complain about her apparently cheating husband. A husband whom she had no intentions of confronting. It was difficult to lend a shoulder to cry on to a friend who doesn't cry. Tears that are shed within are but wasted water, a weapon that could have easily been used against a man. Yet dangerous... like internal hemorrhage. The damage can never be easily assessed, until it is too late for a save.

The 5 worded message was like an ant-bite on her cortex. Small and stinging, persistently and painfully itchy, inconveniently unreachable.

Tiny things that were overlooked were acquiring new meanings.

His "staying back at work" for an hour or two.

His conversation 2 days back that consisted only of "ok", "ok" and "ok. Don't worry. No one will know."

The deleted sent items folder on his phone.

She recognized the girl's name, it was his new colleague. At least she deserves a point for remembering.

Any woman of today would do this, she thought to herself and logged into Facebook.

She was in his friend-list alright.  Score: 2/0

Her photos were not for public viewing. She logged into his account and clicked on the witch's "album". Score: 3/0

(somewhere along the way, the "she" had become a "witch")

She inhaled sharply, hands turned cold and her feelings were hot coal.

Screw the score, this was war.

148 photos. Witch was a cross-breed, Chinese mother and an Indian father.

Good complexion. Nice figure.

Her own plans of making dinner flew out the window and swam under the door. If she skipped dinner, she can save herself the much un-needed calories.

The mercury level of her temper-meter was rising like there was no ceiling. Heart thumped against her chest, head pounded with an unbound fury and curses that she hadn't voiced out, being alone at home.

She felt a desperate need to punch the witch, and him, or at least the wall. She slammed shut the laptop instead. After all, it was his laptop.

The fact that the witch had amazing hair did not help one bit. Anger that was previously directed towards the witch had now turned to him. Targeted and locked. It was consuming her as she sat staring at the tv that she wasn't watching, waiting for him.

HIM......

Driving through this hell after work is like.... well, HELL!! Every Tom, Dick & Harriett has a car now and has decided to flood the highway today. All at the same time! Gotta leave early tomorrow morning.... Have to run through the presentation once. Hope Eric has reviewed and mailed the final copy.... Damn! Internet bill!! F*CK! Forgot to cash in the rent! Ah, hell! Will make an online transaction. If those idiots have not disconnected my line, that is. Have to call Leena and remind about the remaining scripts. *sigh* or maybe I'll just complete it myself tomorrow. MY GOD! How can someone with Indian AND Chinese genes be so slow and dense. Ok, not that bad, maybe semi-permeable. Doesn't understand anything assigned to her, what she is doing and why she is doing it. But is very good at complaining about her boyfriend and his mother and his dog. Argh! Women!

Why the f*ck is this lane so damn slow?! Great, traffic light is fucked. Excellent timing....

My neck is killing me. Is there aspirin at home? Have to stop by at 7'eleven. 7...er.... oh yeah,7th is her brother's b'day. Must call. Remember... remember... Don't want another my-family-is-important lecture. Did I leave my external hard-drive at work? Nah... don't think so. Bloody c*ck!!! hey, hero....!!! Overtaking from the left, no signal, no nothing!!! tere maa ki...... ? shit man... Oh, female driver. Stupid creature. Is my blue shirt ironed..... The presentation.... Eric... Have to give Eric that money. Poor guy. Hope there's chicken for dinner at home. Hope she's back already. Just need to get home. *SIGH* Oh thank god for home.....