“She had a mind like a box of fireworks and hands that played recklessly with matches”.
She said forest bird songs, babbling brooks or even the ringing of church bells didn’t amuse her. It’s just hearing of “I love you” over and over again.
Deeply consumed by his memories, her rain streaked heart was the window which remained open even in nights. A hope that, darkness will not scorn him and he will be by her side.She walked slowly through the red leather door, every night, carrying her throbbing heart in her hands.
The tired candles yawn. She on her knees, her eyes begging her heart to have some more drops of patience. Her tiny mouth opens whispering his name and her eyes forcefully closed, tears escaping through the corners making the eye lashes wet.
Every morning, she made a resolution. ” I would not cry, or even sigh ” but her eyes still wet and tired and wonders why nights are sleepless and mornings are uninteresting.