Today I woke up early. I felt the numbness suppress the morning trying to ring in my ear. My brain told me that it was just another day- another day of pretension and yet another day of sadism.
I looked in the mirror and saw a face yearning to wake up and a smile that seemed forced. The toothpaste was almost over and the bristles on the brush were pitiable. They were tired too. The watch ticked away as if enjoying the misery it caused to the still groggy soul.
Fragments of last night came back in bits and pieces- the fallen confetti and the half eaten cake. Another year gone by; another champagne bottle opened and another cake cut.
‘What do you want for your birthday?’
A question everybody asked. If only I could have what I wanted!
How did ‘my life back’ sound to them, I wondered.
Could a person be alive on memories alone and not want more?
Well I was late for class and thinking, in my opinion, just led to disaster.
Mrs. Ahluwalia was out and about as usual with her dog Goudi. She looked the same everyday: pink tracks, a white tee shirt that clung to her 50 something sagging body and a smile plastered to her wrinkled face.
“How was last night?” she asked like a good neighbour.
I would generally have engaged in civil conversation, but not today. I felt like shutting her out and moving forward. She didn’t seem to mind. It was just another part of her everyday routine.
The bus was stuck in traffic as usual, moving at snail’s pace and breaking like staccato. Everything was as it should have been. Just with a new number on the calendar.
But I had to see something different, do something out of the mundane. This was not how i planned it to be.
I got off the bus and started to walk- trot actually.
(…to be continued)