You, me and the ripples below
Drifting yachts, breeze so slow
Eyes locked and hearts so still
Souls shimmering and lungs so hollow..
“Venice. “He said, “That’s where we shall run off to. ”
Her eyes twinkled, and her lips stretched.
“I like the yachts. “She said.
And I like you. He didn’t utter this thoughts aloud, like most of those. It was his inability, probably a psychological handicap, that he couldn’t express his feelings. He had been bad at it for as long as he could remember.
It didn’t matter though. They were in the last stage of their last date. It was the end. And they were planning fake extramarital affairs. Just to make the other one feel better. Or hopeful. Or maybe just better.
“What would you say to your husband? “He asked.
“I won’t. I’ll just run and run and run till I reach you. “
He so wanted to look at her at that moment… Just a glimpse, a moment beholding those bright jet black eyes. He just had to tilt his head. But he stared far into the grass, at the emptiness amid the wisp of blades, and let her sketches unfold in his mind.
She was beautiful.
“Your husband could be a millionaire. ”
“Hmm..in that case, I shall, after spending the Venice vacation with you, run back to him. “She said.
“Very smart answer. ”
The clocks ticked away, and the minds started preparing adieu speeches. The breeze protested, but nobody noticed.
“So? “She said.
“So? “He said.
“In Venice? ”
And then, he watched her. The eyes, the depth in her gaze. The forehead, and the tiny creases there, the lips, straight as a bar, the uncertainty, the fear, and the frail, sagging love.
He smiled. He didn’t say anything. Just shook his head and left the bench.
“See you soon. “He lied to her, for the first time in his life.