The house is breathing silence, reflecting solitude. Sitting on the wide window sill, with a mug of coffee, she watches the weather transforming dramatically. It looks like a shadow of an enormous bird who has started to spread its wing.
The dusk is about to fall. People have started to emerge, gathering in different groups. Even birds have claimed their favourite spot. They sit on a distant power line as if getting ready for an assembly. She likes to watch them, everything out of her window, but never wants to go out. She can stay at home for months without stepping for weeks.
She sips her coffee, feeling calm as cool breeze caresses her. Suddenly, lightning flashes. Now she waits for that thundering sound that would follow. She feels cool raindrops on her cheek. Her heartbeat rises as she looks at distant trees that are swaying classically. An exotic bird, perched on a wooden pole, flutters her wings and flies to joins a group flocking around, returning to their homes.
This is it!
This collective occurrences affect her in a certain way, it happens quite often. Her heart fills with a deep sense of nostalgia, and a freshet of memories rushes in. It has now started to rain heavily. Fat raindrops hitting the ground furiously, making circular waves. She shuts the windowpane.
Memories – you can never be sure what stirs them.
The emptiness of her house tugs her heart. The soothing solitude is screaming now. She looks at the nicely made bed. He was right there. Just two years back. Lying silently. Smiling voicelessly. Looking everywhere without actually looking. There’s an assurance of togetherness even without words.
All togetherness don’t last forever. Sometimes, they come with a date written on it when goodbyes are scheduled. She learned to move on or she thought so. It’s easy to create new memories but can anyone learn to leave their memories behind and move on? 'I wish goodbyes didn’t leave haunting memories.' She thought. But, sometimes these memories are soothing as they connect you with someone who has become a memory. This thread is precious.
She gets up and lies down on the bed. Trying to search that familiar fragrance. That familiar touch. She closes her eyes and takes a foetal position. This is the place she finds solace. This is the place where slumber claims her amicably.
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