She turned to face him, almost surprised, a little bit in nervousness, a little bit in love. Their eyes met. Her breathing was unsteady, fast. She had been dancing downstairs in the mild afternoon sun. She smelt of sweat. He smelt like cool air conditioning and the sea. He was calm and knew what was going to happen.
He moved to kiss her on the lips but paused and kissed her forehead instead. When you love someone that much, you want to love her in flesh as well. Her hair, her belly, her nose, even fingertips and ears, everything that is hers, you want to cup between your hands and kiss.
She closed her eyes in disbelief, was this really happening. She was a few inches shorter than him and he had to bend down to kiss her on the lips. They locked in a kiss for ten seconds. She was leaning on the kitchen wall and he was leaning on her. They held hands, firmly. Both hands. Like each other were all they had. Like she was his peaceful permanent. And he was hers.
After that she pulled away softly and rested her head on his chest. He wanted to go on, but the telephone rang. He didn't care and held her chin in his hands. But she wouldn't stay. With the ringing of the phone, reality had trickled into their happy cocoon. He desperately tried to hold her back, without a care for anything else in the world. All that he wanted was to have her. They stood there bathed in each other's sighs for moments. But she slipped away from him and tip toed towards the telephone. He turned to her and swallowed in large gulps. Waiting for her reaction. Waiting for her to say some things. Acknowledge somethings.
She didn't have that courage. She pretended as if nothing had happened. After mumbling inconsequential pleasantries on the phone, she walked away slowly even as he kept calling out her name, once, twice and thrice.
And her bangles jingled all along.
1 comment:
Nice. Wine.
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