Empty Pages Episode 7

52 write ups in 7 weeks - something I am unable to believe myself. Big thanks to everyone sending my prompts, and also to those who are my earthing. This week has been depressing and hectic and I wasn't sure if there would be a post.Looks like my words would like to meet you, so shall back off at this point. :)

#45 Half moon

She looked up at the half moon. It hit her.

That is exactly what people were like.

The world saw the half that was illuminated.

Everyone would sing songs of praise.

There was a dark side nobody could see.

Just as real. Visible only to those who noticed.

Hidden from plain sight, it was the twin.

An equal part of the half moon. Unappreciated.

Nobody understood the need for the other side.

That there'd be no half moon without the darker half.

#46 Coffee

Cup of coffee ( I know I've done a coffee story before, but this was a request. If I find any ads made based on these, yes I will sue you, * furiously texts lawyer* )

He glared at his now cold, coffee that had been steaming hot when he started working. People were starting to trickle into the office, he could hear the distant sound of office gossip. He looked at his watch, unable to understand where the last 12 hours had disappeared.

She gingerly took a sip. Too hot, she had scalded her tongue. She munched on the biscuits impatiently, she had to get back, she didn't have time for this. By the time she was done texting, it was lukewarm. She downed it one shot. Showtime.

He liked to roast his own beans and grind them. It let you savour every aspect of coffee. It wasn't a beverage to him, it was a ritual. Almost like a religion. Every cup of coffee made him feel awake, alive. It made him happy to wake up irrespective of what the day before, the day after or the present day had in store.

She was crushed between two women, both with strong perfumes, hot lunch boxes and sweaty pits; not to mention their loud voices cackling over the phone. She glanced at the girl sitting in the opposite seat. She was reading a magazine, a couple drinking coffee on the cover. It seemed like an everyday thing. To her it would be a luxury, one she couldn't afford before leaving her house at 4 am for work.

They sat together in silence. The only sound being the noise the spoon made while touching the cup. The spoon probably made more contact with the cup than they did with each other. He was a spoon, she was a cup. They made sense to everyone else, except each other. They did not belong together.

He hadn't had a chance to touch his books all week long with the hospital trips, having to take care of his siblings, grandparents. His father was counting his seconds, giving up already, his mother was praying for more. He didn't have much energy to think about anything else. This cup of coffee and the ones to come had to keep him awake,at least till he submitted his answers.

They looked at each other awkwardly for few seconds. He wanted to talk to her but wasn't sure if she'd want to. She wanted an excuse to talk but all her ideas felt lame. She wished she had her friends around her. They both were given a huge workload to work on. At first she started working real fast, she wanted to finish work and then go talk to him. Till it hit her, if she worked slow, they would have to talk at some point of time. 6pm. He found a reason to make conversation. Would she like a cup of coffee?

She hated the amount of time it took to make filter kaapi. When she lived alone, she would just use instant coffee or drink tea she told herself. Till the day she had to live alone, miles away from home. Even the best instant coffee, handpicked tea leaves, nothing could take her home for few minutes the way her kaapi could.

She had quit coffee. It reminded her of her dead husband, who loved his coffee as much as he loved his wife. Or maybe more, nobody would know. Every cup brought back painful memories, tears that would drip into her coffee cup. Years later, she would drink coffee again, drink to his memory. She learnt to love what he loved.

He rushed into the shop without realising where he had entered. It was raining and he didn't have an umbrella, he had just barged in. He awkwardly looked around, he definitely did not belong her. He was about to walk away when the old woman to his left told him to sit down. It was still raining, she seemed kind. She asked him what he'd drink, he saw the prices of different types of coffee. 10 cups of this coffee and his entire month's expenses seemed to be the same number. He shook his head, he couldn't spend this much. She offered to buy him coffee, he squirmed in his seat, explained he wouldn't be able to pay her back. She asked him to pay back in time, in words. She wanted to talk to somebody. Soon the coffee fuelled a long conversation, they talked like they had grown up together. A young man in his 20s and an old woman in her 70s chatting away, they were the unlikeliest couple in the room. Yet they seemed to be enjoying their coffee and conversation more than anyone else.

#47 Alone

She sat alone in the restaurant. She didn't want to go home.
She felt lonely, like nobody would ever want to be with her.
She looked around, an old wrinkled man sitting alone.
He was struggling to get food into his mouth without spilling.
A couple with noisy kids, hardly any conversation and glares.
The old man with a handbag and candyfloss wobbling along outside.
His wife slowly inched along, struggling to keep up with the snail pace.
Younger couples feeding each other, laughing, holding hands. Giggling.
Sometimes it did not affect her. That she was alone, unattached.
Sometimes just them gave her sharp pangs.Deep pangs.
Aches, that hit her in the gut. Vacuum. She had nothing to lose.
Most of the time, her work, her passion kept her busy.
Some days the pangs made her think. Why did this matter so much?
She wasn't the only one, many of her friends shared her fears.
Was it the fear to live alone or die alone?

#48 The Envelope

He had spent years agonising over the same thing. He had been on a trip and when he got back, there was no trace of her. Her house had been vacated, phone number was out of service. She didn't use the internet yet. He had no way of finding her.

The first few days had been about him pretending this never happened. Maybe she was just trying to tease him. She would call or show up. She didn't.
It drove him crazy. He was so angry with her. He had been everything a girl could as for. She hadn't even bothered to say goodbye. He wasn't sure if he should wait or give up on her.

He had been a scrawny teenager with a vermiform moustache when they met. She had been a socially awkward, bespectacled geek. They had become friends, been friends even when they were more than friends, but parted so abruptly, he now questioned everything.

He spent weeks, months trying to pinpoint her every flaw, make the memories seem less special, make her seem less special. It didn't work to his favour but it got him by. The fire soon became embers. He was now more sad than angry that she left. He would have done whatever it would have taken.

He went over every conversation they had. He wondered what he could have done to make her stay. They seemed to have had a good run. She wasn't willing to get married at the point but they had discussed their life together. They had even picked out a name for their dream house and dog.

He wondered if maybe he wasn't good enough. Maybe she wasn't willing to settle for less. His self esteem crumbled. He was now a broken man, working like a robot, living a meaningless life. That's what he felt like. Nothing made him happy anymore.

His house by this point resembled a earthquake site. He wouldn't have cleaned his house at all, if his mother hadn't called to say she was visiting. He started slowly, cursing his luck,sifting through things, threw quite a few things out. He put all her stuff into a box, he would burn it later. He wished he could put her memories too into a box. Set them aside.

As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump. After all this time, this couldn't be happening. He opened the envelope slowly, almost as if it was going to explode. She had written to him before she left, he had walked by that letter all this time. He read the letter repeatedly. She mentioned something about reading the address right. He didn't need that condescension. He left, box in tow.

He reached the building. He had had no difficulty finding the place. His heart plummeted as he saw a small boy running across him and straight into the house, screaming for his mom. No. Just no. His dreams deflated faster than a balloon.

He walked over, saw the beginning of the name board and before his eyes could start reading, the anger melted all logic.His ears were hot, his shirt felt stuffy, he wanted to punch somebody. He started screaming, he didn't know what he was saying but he was bellowing. She had broken his heart, caused so much pain. He described a lot of things about her in great detail, things better left unsaid in public. He started flinging stuff from the box at the door. Something was amiss. He looked up from the box and saw her feet looked huge and well, different. His eyes traced the form in front of him.

Standing in front of him was a middle aged woman who reminded him of his school teacher. He half expected his school Principal to show up behind her. This was a woman he definitely had never been in love with, or could possibly be in. She looked furious, her child was peeping from behind his mother, not able to understand the stranger at the door.

After profuse apologies, he collected his stuff,slowly backed out, one step at a time.
He checked her letter again. She had been right after all. He walked over to the next door and rang the bell. He figured if the door didn't open for him, he would just give up. A dog bolted out to greet him, it seemed to know him well. She appeared, wearing his old t-shirt, newspaper in hand, pen between teeth. Crossword. It had been their Sunday ritual together. She stood there frozen, she had always hoped he would show up at her doorstep, but hadn't expected him to.

He wanted to repeat everything he had just said to her austere neighbour. The words wouldn't leave him though. He wasn't angry she had left, he was upset she had abandoned him. Part of him wanted to fling her stuff, part of him wanted to fling himself. It would be the end of a chapter or the start of one. He could close the book or turn the page.

"3 Across,7 letters,starts with S, clue is - A melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves" , she said.
He knew the answer and hoped to never feel it again.

#49 Pedestal

He is so great there is nobody else like him.
He has done what nobody else could ever do.
He can never be wrong or tainted in any way.
He is always right, choosing what is best for us.
He could never have faltered, too great for that.
He is the best person a man can be, the best son.
He is everything you could ask for and more.
Till the day; the world began to realise it wasn't true.
They didn't have the full details, probably never would.
As the truth slowly unravelled, stories began to spread.
People began question every word, every move.
The fall came soon, and in one swift motion he was rolling down.
That is the problem with being kept on pedestals.
The higher you are placed, the steeper the fall.

#50 Mistake

Everyone gave her the specifics.
They told her what would be safe.
They focused a lot on character types.
Hoped she'd pick the best combination.

This process would repeat eventually.
Till she realised she had a pattern.
She made the same mistakes each time.
Chased the same flaws each time.

It wasn't just this one, or the one before.
They all fit into a grand scheme.
She couldn't repeat her mistakes.
What could she do to avoid them?

Try something offbeat. Unexpected.
Live life dangerously. Precariously.
Of course, she regretted it the next day.
She couldn't remember the spelling.

#51 Chinese food

She wasn't too fond of Chinese food in specific.
Yet she was starting to become a breakfast regular at the local Chinese restaurant..
What she loved were the fortune cookies. They were so accurate.
On the first day. cookie read : "Your wish will come true" .She was thrilled.
The next day her fortune read: "An important person will offer you support."
She couldn't believe her boss had pretty much said okay to all her requests.
If the cookie predicted a bad day, she would have a bad day. Maybe the cookie was right.
Maybe she expected the day to be bad, was miserable all day.
By now she was hooked. The fortune guys were 100% correct, she figured.

Till the day her cookie read: "Could I get some directions to your heart?"
She was a little puzzled but a cookie had asked her so she chose to ignore.
She was already late and a new member was joining the team today.
She walked into her office only to see her worst nightmare unfold.
Standing in front of her was the one person who had made her life hell.
More like her adolescent life hell. She felt a mixture of rage and fear.
They had hated each other through school, where he'd tormented her.
She was so relieved they didn't join the same college after school.
He had chosen a different line entirely and she was thrilled about that.
Today a grown up version of that boy, was looking at her like a goldfish.

She chose to ignore him, pretend he did not exist. She walked past him.
Her boss however threw a curveball her way. He could have punched her instead.
Everything he had said okay to earlier, was subject to her working with "him".
She wanted it badly enough to agree. She'd just get it done with.
Next day's cookie read: "Your worst enemy has a crush on you".
She tore the paper into microscopic bits. She all but swore off Chinese food.
She wouldn't listen to this nonsense anymore. It was all humbug.

She arrived at work looking very angry and flustered. She hated being so.
They had to work together, so they would need to talk to each other.
She avoided it as much as she could. She would talk in terse sentences.
She would say just what was necessary and leave. She didn't want to see his face.
He had liked her in school and teased her as a way of getting to hang around her.
All she knew was he had ruined her teenage self esteem, crippled her.

It was just for one night. She'd never have to see him again. Be reminded again.
He knew teenage him had been an idiot, but watching her anger amused him.
Atleast there was no way she would ever forget him, even if through hatred.
He tried making conversation but she wouldn't even look at his face.
He wanted to apologise,say so much, but she was in no mood to listen.

While her anger burnt her, a short circuit did the same almost to the building.
She furiously walked away after screaming about something nonspecific.
She walked into what would be flames soon, only ashes of her would remain.
By the time she realised there was fire, his hands were dragging her out of the room.

She hated that she now owed him. She didn't want to owe him anything, even time.
She wanted to scream - Who asked you to save me? I don't want your help.
The only thing she was capable of doing was wiggling her toes though.
She had been brought in semiconscious and had to go through a lot of tests.
She wanted to tell him to get lost. She didn't want him around her if she died.
Yet his familiar voice was soothing given the number of strangers in the room.
Tonight she would hear a story she had assumed could never be a reality.

#52 Vector

She wasn't too old. In fact she wasn't even thirty yet.
Yet she felt like an ancient person. Like she did not belong.
She had been hit hard, hit fast and hit early in life.
She hadn't had the opportunity to savour life like others.
The carefree days, the lack of responsibility, the joy of being lazy.
She didn't know what that would be like.What did she miss out on?

By the time everyone would reach the state she was in, they'd be retiring.
She hadn't had the opportunity and now was scared to try.
She didn't have youth in her favour, or didn't feel she did.
She couldn't blame her mistakes on "being young and stupid".

She was now rigidly wired to think things through. Hundred times.
Every time she thought of being fun, alarms went off in her head.
Alarms she couldn't snooze, or ignore. They wouldn't stop.
She saw people her age and felt a tinge of jealousy. Just a tinge.
She wished she could do the things they did, so easily.

She considered signing up for things, she would learn fun stuff
Till she realised she was always the oldest in the room.Always.
It made her conscious, everyone staring at her, it killed her.

Till she met people double ( and other multiples) of her age.
White haired, Grey haired. Some even had coloured manes.
They didn't care because they had nothing to lose, they said.
If they didn't now, they probably never would, they said.
She rolled her eyes.This was cliched movie material.

She shook their advice off like a dog shaking water off.
She went back to envying people who could dance. Write.
Sing. Travel. Run marathons. Paint. Change their lives.
She followed from her home as they moved on in life.

Till she found herself, obsessing over other's lives for hours.
At 2 am she knew what each of her classmates had been doing.
She herself though, had wasted the same amount of time, doing nothing.
She had every excuse, to blame her circumstances, her people.

The fact remained, she had had the same time and burnt it.
Burnt it in other's joy, sadness. Burnt it watching them live.
She signed up again, this time even older than the previous.
Age was a scalar, life was a vector. She now had a direction.