A Tiny Love Story

Lady Of Rain

It was drizzling. He saw her standing in the rain getting wet. There was enough room for her under his umbrella. He asked casually, “Hey, why don’t you come on in?”

She looked back following the trail of his voice. He seemed earnest. She smiled. Her wet glasses made his face look like a mosaic pattern. She needed a better look. And that’s when she took off her glasses.

It was an interstellar burst. An astronomical destruction so spectacular that even time stood still to watch it. “Those eyes”, he thought. “Those are the eyes the next world war will be fought for.”

In that unbearable moment of heightened ecstasy when everything was in slow motion and time had lost its meaning, he heard her voice for the first time, “But I love the rain!”

It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Better than the sound of rustling bamboo leaves by the paws of Pandas. Better than the sound of Jacobin Cuckoo after the first rain. Better than anything that this world had ever produced. It was music. This was the perfection the entire band of Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, Schubert and Tchaikovsky tried to achieve, but failed.

“Who is this Goddess?” he thought.

She continued, “Thanks though. We can walk for a while if you’d like.”

And he walked. He walked. He would have walked with her till the end of the land. But for the time he walked her to her apartment.

He was elated as he crossed her apartment door. This was her private world. Her secret garden. He was getting a glimpse of it. A quick glimpse of heaven.

He nestled himself onto the cozy couch with the flamingo colored cover.  It felt good.

And then she spoke again. She looked him right in the eye and said with a snide smile, “You done? Now get the fuck out of my home.”

The smile!

It was loaded with mockery and hate. Her words cut him clean into two halves like a cold blade of a samurai sword. He laid there on the ground for a while, bleeding. Then slowly he collected his tattered remainings from the ground and crawled out of her space.

And as he was trudging down the stairs all he could do was laugh. He laughed out loud. He rolled in laughter. He could not control it. For he had Alexithymia.

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