It’s your first anniversary, you buy her danglers and give a sad smile at the book store. She drapes in red, without your insisting and you take her to your favourite hotel. You order Falafel and she simply smiles in contentment. The waiter is surprised as never had he taken such a quick order from your table before. You find she has glossier tanned skin and her hairs are twice a shade darker but she never pesters you to compliment.
It starts to rain and this time you’re not dragged out to feel the first spell of monsoon. You drive her back and she is okay with your playing ‘Whitney Huston’ in the car. You unknowingly stop right before an ice cream parlour, but when she makes a confused face, you remember that she would never prefer them at night.
You both reach your place and she is not carrying her heels in her hands. She still has them on. It’s past midnight and you’re in deep thoughts about how she perfectly glided all through. She did not argue with the waiter, neither did she bug for balloons on the way back home. She even gracefully avoided the man in rags.
It was all absolutely hustle-free. You feel that she actually lets you have things your way and that’s when you realise what you lost, fourteen months ago.
Indeed I was a mess, but it had a gravitating charisma.