…I come to the kitchen directly from the messy bed to fill my empty tummy with the remaining droplets of Smirnoff in the bottle that I bought and kept in the refrigerator yesterday; it seems my eyes aren’t appeared to be open soon and the hangover I’ve from the downtrodden last night’s party made my body so weak. It’s inducted me to make myself feel better on this late afternoon. Actually, I couldn’t believe that I’m still alive from a traumatic night I’d been through a few hours aforetime and from the subtlety of knowing a desolated part that existed in me which I never knew before.
Sometimes, the flashbacks of a few emphatic memories are the foremost and the worst portraits in a human life. Such kind of reflections ponders and breaks down through the submissive diagonals of the various corners of our minds and ends up in an emotional trap from nowhere. It’s not that easy to survive in a life from there anymore, then.
“I shouldn’t think too much at this moment. It’s killing me! I’m frustrated for being in a situation similar to this appalling point where I’ve faced everything alone. I must have to bear this. I must…. Nevertheless, I knew that she hates boozing. But I did… I showered upon my anger on her. She didn’t say anything. What else she could say? She’s gone! She’s gone.”, I thought while pouring the chilled cola intently to the bottle of Vodka.
Obviously, it feels so good to be like this, at least while having it, as I wouldn’t think too much like what I thought in her presence last night.
I walk down here and there in my untidy apartment where I’m all alone right at this moment, sipping the full-glass of stress reliever that may help me to forget her memories and count down a feckless life of mine for breaking that one rule she’s enforced upon me. I don’t know why! But it still hurts me whenever I think of her. Her innocent look. Her feary eyes. Godamn it! Everything is gone. I ruined everything.
I tried not to do that anymore, but it’s happening again. This was how I became so connected to her. I looked out through the broken window of my apartment, which is located at Cross Street Palace road, to see whether she’s coming by that way like every day or not. It’s noon time, still…
She doesn’t… She wouldn’t walk down again through this road to our college anymore. She wouldn’t await for me to pick up her anymore. I know; of course, she knows it very well rather than me. She hates me and that’s what I deserve from her for what I’ve done.
I looked awkwardly all around me to see what’s happening; what’s going on in between us; why it’s breaking me so hideously even though what she said was her opinion?
I sit down there on our chair, the one on which we usually sit together and talk perpetually on any unspecified topics unless and until she gets a call from home.
“I’m missing her so much! Why the nature looks so horrible out through the window now?” I thought.
I remember! Memories are urging myself to fill her emptiness in me. I couldn’t… Once before during an afternoon, it was here we kissed for the first time while discussing about the romantic parts of Fifty Shades Of Grey, her favourite novel. She asked me whether I could kiss her like Grey kisses Anastasia in the novel. I thought she’d said that for moping me. I gently slapped her as a hooked response to what she asked me.
“Will you kiss me so passionately like he kissed her?”, she asked me again with her ardent smile.
“If not…?”, I retorted. However, what I’d in my mind was how would a guy of my age could say a senseless no to one among the beautiful girls in his college who has been begging him to kiss her; not just to kiss her, but to kiss her so passionately.
“Kiss me! Please kiss me even if you ain’t okay with it”, she dictated.
I kissed her. We kissed. And we never stopped kissing thereafter.
After an hour:
*Somebody knocking at the door*
I suddenly rise up from the chair, slaughtering the short-nap and run to reach the door. That’s my girl. Yes, she is there on the other side of wall. She’s there.
“Will you kiss me like you always do? Not like Grey kisses her! Kiss me like you always kisses me, Idioooooooooot”
“….in a passionate way, uh?”
“Nope! In a more passionate way…”
I see myself in her, with her eyes wide open, and my heart pounding repetitively to get her back. She steps in and closes the door. Both of us stand beneath the wall.
“Will you booze anymore?”
“Nope! I promise you. I wouldn’t, Sweetheart.”
“I’ll kill you and then me if you booze ever again. Mind it”
My words are all at its peak to control the feelings I’ve on her. I look at her eyes. They reflect the seemly innocence she has always. She holds me closer and I entwine her fingers with mine. Silence. A moment of passion. Love. Bring back the touch.
.P.S. This short story has been written for the #BringBackTheTouch campaign conducted by http://www.pblskin.com/ and Indiblogger Happyhours.
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