The Girl In The Black

Rahul woke up first, with his bruised and dented thoughts. Unsure of what was being pursued? The thoughts, the idea, the likeliness or the augmentation. It was a conundrum, this love. He sat and watched the freckled face, still soundly asleep next to him. Pillowed on the arm of his hands. Except for the apparent sternness developed from grueling years of field visits, she was a person with astounding features. Or that’s what he thought- the idea of beauty. There were two round eyes if you looked closely she had long dark hair flowing through her silhouette in the emblazoned light. It occurred to him that he still didn’t know her last name, let alone where she was from.

The young body, strengthened with time, presently helpless in sleep awakened in him a pitying feeling of protection. Possessiveness. The mindless tenderness that he had felt ages ago, under the dancing droplets and chirping birds of the hazel tree, had not returned. He pulled the overalls aside and studied her. In the old days, he thought, a man looked at a girl’s silhouette and understood the desire and that would have been the end of the story. But pure love didn’t exist these days, neither did pure lust. No emotion was pure, everything was a probable combination of lust, hatred, fear, grief, and need. Their meeting and embrace had been an uphill battle. Although the victor was yet to be determined, in the present state of affairs, it was all the need and sheet of a human desire.

He calmly slid his arms from under her resting head and moved outside the room to look for water. It was a tiring day already. Maybe he could seek a happier time ahead, or maybe the universe had finally planned something extravagant for him.

He steered towards the kitchen thinking “until now there was no purity, no goodness, and no virtue existing anywhere. Although we adore each other, humans are yet corrupt to the core”.

“Maybe times have changed for the better,” He thought out loud.

“Maybe not” came the voice from within.

by boringbug

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