His warm being towered over me. I knew. But I couldn't
accept it. It was untrue till it happened. Our world was all there was. Just
the warmth of his overwhelming presence, the sweet breath that seemed to linger
on his soft smile, the inexpressive eyes staring back at me. I didn't know,
then, the depth of feeling behind that still black. He was a void on the
outside, a reflection of me; both of us the blank cover of a heavy book.
I rested my front on his chest, my cheeks pressed against
the back of his neck. I could hear our
hearts timed to each other, slow, steady, strong as one. My eyes looked on
beyond. Ghosts moved around us. It was the rhythmic heaving of my chest that
mattered.
And then I moved away. Colder air ran into my cheeks and
gushed in through the round neck of my tee. My lips broadened in a smile as a
practiced reflex to the tender pink of his. I followed his hand as he drove it
through his longish black hair. He was in clear view now, but my sight began to
blur. The smile was fixed on my face. His voice rung clear in my ears, “bye”.
“Have a safe journey and call me when you reach home” I replied.
His broad, straight shoulders, that wore my favourite navy
blue shirt, drifted away from me. He was the phantom now; a deafening multitude
of voices suddenly raising hell and drowning mine. The figure still transfixed
me to my spot, my senses working by their own bidding. It lingered for a while
when the security personnel at the doors checked his air-ticket and passport.
And then it disappeared.
I shut my eyes. A
silent stream of water flowed down my cheeks just as my voice tied itself up in
a knot. My legs seemed to have lost their ability to move, my lungs to breathe,
my heart to beat. I was back under his warmth, his lips pressed against mine,
my fingers walking through his hair, his soft skin caressing mine, our heavy
breaths and heart beats marching to time...
