She could close her eyes and it was all right there in HD.
His voice took her back to days she had wished would never end.
The tree with those trailing tendrils in one corner, the cats running in and out of view, the uneven feel of the stone seating. She could feel herself back in those magical moments as sunshine faded to cool poetry. It was like they were back there, meeting awkwardly for the second or third time, and she could see the clear browns of his eyes.
The breezes kicked up as she heard him telling her about his night. He ran his hand through his hair, unconsciously, maybe, as he relived his memory. She saw him close his eyes and touch his forehead with three fingers as he spoke of the emotion that had taken his by surprise.
The lights came on, then, and shadows flew around the space they shared... His voice fluctuated from laden with memory to brisk and practical. His surprise laughs were like stray winds that rushed to catch up with the breeze that had passed by. His clear eyes has a disconcerting habit of looking at her, and then sprinting around, wanting to catch as much as they could, finding more stories to tell, more hearts to touch... Till Silence began descending, slowly, softly, and she knew it was nearing the end of her flash to sepia. He began to fade, concluding their conversation much before she was ready to let it go.
She frantically tried to go back; she closed her eyes, fervently hoping that this was a dream, and that in reality, there were really back there, talking about coding and social media. She wanted another chance to meet him for the first time, the second time, the 50th time... Not like this, not virtually. Work was virtual, this was life, this was poetry, this was potent...
And it deserved more than a WhatsApp voicenote in return.
His voice took her back to days she had wished would never end.
The tree with those trailing tendrils in one corner, the cats running in and out of view, the uneven feel of the stone seating. She could feel herself back in those magical moments as sunshine faded to cool poetry. It was like they were back there, meeting awkwardly for the second or third time, and she could see the clear browns of his eyes.
The breezes kicked up as she heard him telling her about his night. He ran his hand through his hair, unconsciously, maybe, as he relived his memory. She saw him close his eyes and touch his forehead with three fingers as he spoke of the emotion that had taken his by surprise.
The lights came on, then, and shadows flew around the space they shared... His voice fluctuated from laden with memory to brisk and practical. His surprise laughs were like stray winds that rushed to catch up with the breeze that had passed by. His clear eyes has a disconcerting habit of looking at her, and then sprinting around, wanting to catch as much as they could, finding more stories to tell, more hearts to touch... Till Silence began descending, slowly, softly, and she knew it was nearing the end of her flash to sepia. He began to fade, concluding their conversation much before she was ready to let it go.
She frantically tried to go back; she closed her eyes, fervently hoping that this was a dream, and that in reality, there were really back there, talking about coding and social media. She wanted another chance to meet him for the first time, the second time, the 50th time... Not like this, not virtually. Work was virtual, this was life, this was poetry, this was potent...
And it deserved more than a WhatsApp voicenote in return.
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