3 days ago
I'll be at work, twirling around, talking to somebody and suddenly I'll have a flashback.
Your address, the quick breakfast you'd make me before office, the elaborate dinner you'd make every damned night, how you taught me to spot the best watermelons, these random 'stay still kid, the light's good' photos, some series we binge-watched, your 'that is my tee I should be able to wear it sometime too' rants.
I'd immediately rush to my desk and put on Lou Reed's Perfect Day. Fuck, your singing!
I have told every person I know about Michael Kiwanuka, btw. Now that's one less thing that was just your and mine.
Oh, and one of these days, I'll remove your address from Zomato.
And one of these months, I'll finally stop staring at the door every time the metro reaches DN Nagar.
And then one day, I'll surely remove all of you from Google Photos.
And finally, one day, I'll stop writing about you.