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Friday 8 September 2017

Camphour letters


The incessant efforts done by me could not bring out any fruitful result. The sky was shimmering with stars and the distant skyscrapers casted their reflection down upon the vast lake of Camphor. I was staring into the vast emptiness, reliving those moments that have gone past me.

“Would you mind?” I asked her just out of courtesy, flipped the cigarette in my hand.

“Would you care?” she looked away from me.

It was silent, with only the distant whistle of the carrier ships breaking it. When love had a price…. It was my favorite song. I imagined how I used to travel this place during my college days. So, full of spirit and an ignorant vibe to conquer everything, unchallenged by the limitation of mind and body. I used to be something back then. With three majors on my name and an impressive track record, I was the chosen one for my faculty.  Slowly the water receded, and the high tide was gone. The whistle no longer present to remind us of its presence. It was all gone.

I walked her to her home.

“bye. Tomorrow we will go to Jamie’s. I will be up there by nine” I looked at her as I said this. Though my face was stone cold, yet somewhere inside, I wished if she could just throw her arms upon me. I wished if she could understand that It was not my ego that has come up, but my slow recession towards self-destruction. I wish I could hold her and say all will be just fine and say that I love her so much. I wish if she would turn back and at least smile. At least…

As she was moving up the stairs, she turned back to me. My heart leaped inside. She came closer to me, close enough to make me feel the warmth of her breath. I held her hand. It was warm and sweaty.

“I lo…,” As I opened my mouth, she put her palm on it.

“I think it’s over”

“what?”

“It’s over!”

She took her hand away and went inside in a hush.

 The far whistle was coming back again.

when love had a price…”