Sunday, January 10, 2016


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She was never one for small talk. 

So, heard you quit your job. Why? Weren't you getting a hefty package? I thought you were happy. She felt like running away from the intrusive questions thrown at her. She had escaped the confines of her bedroom in order to seek some solace from the loneliness that haunted her. But standing here, in the midst of a crowd of people she hardly knew, suddenly she wasn't so sure. 

The walls started shrinking in and she struggled to breathe. 

If it was a few weeks back, she would have found the whole situation funny. She would have gone to him and they would have laughed about it over a glass of wine. Now that he's no longer there, there seemed too much time and very little to do. 

Stepping out onto the balcony, she lit her cigarette and took a deep breath, the smoke filled her lungs. The place was deserted, other than the smoke that others had left in their wake, she was alone. It was a beautiful night, a moonless night. Her thoughts wandered over to him again unwittingly. Poetry, she mused. That's what he had called her. Her body was his canvas and he wrote sonnets on them. Till one day he probably realized that he had outgrown her. 

The walls expanded. She could finally breathe. Away from the swarm of people, alone with her thoughts, she felt a little less lonely. 

What's a beautiful girl like you doing alone smoking in the dark? A voice from behind invaded her thoughts. She turned and fled. 

She was never one for small talk. 


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