43 minutes ago
* Goodbye *
We went to the café today, the one at the nook of the street, exactly three songs from your house. You ended up ordering the white sauce pasta that drips with gooey sauce, with exactly two slices of bread laced with garlic and butter. I knew that, I had made a mental note. After all, it was not the first time we were meeting; the last, maybe.
You looked prettier with your cropped top hanging loose on your shoulder, exposing your hazelnut skin. You had tied your hair in a bun, leaving a few strands dangling on the nape of your neck and a few more covering your forehead. I haven't been spellbound by your beauty ever before. I guess it's the thought of going farther which brings us closer to reality.
You took a spoonful and burnt your tongue, keeping up with the regime. I chuckled at your childishness, reminding myself how short-lived it is going to be. You darted your eyes towards mine, mouthing 'fuck off'. I didn't feel bad, not because it was the routine but because I knew I might not see your angry grey eyes again.
Meanwhile, I ordered two virgin mojitos, dashed gorgeously with lemon and mint. Had it not been your way, you would have made a huge fuss out of it. I knew it; I know you. You've always been stubborn about getting things done your way. And, if for some reason hell is let loose, your face swells up like the red angry bird. You looked cute. I have told you, haven't I?
You tell me how much you're going to miss hanging out at this place, savouring the delicious bite of pasta. Your eyes glisten - the reality was hitting you now. Walls have ears; we've all heard but the air they're surrounded with, is sensitive enough to cause little explosions of memories - we haven't heard before but we knew now.
You leave for New York tomorrow morning. I hope the people there are good but not better than those back home.
We head out of the café and bid goodbye with a hug. The embrace felt warmer, making it difficult for me to let go of it. You felt warmer, I found it difficult to let go of you too.
But the toughest decisions are the best ones, so I turn away crumpling the letter in my pocket. ~ Kavya Mukhija ( @agirlwithchubbycheeks )