She’s my best friend. He My lover. He says She has got eyes that could hypnotize an Arab so that he thinks himself to be an Eskimo. I never found them exceptionally beautiful though, or was I just jealous? Well I prefer the former option better. He laughs when I’m around but gleams when she is. He pulls me up close, sometimes wraps his arm around my tiny waist and keeps hanging in there. He knows I like it though. Sometimes it is nothing sexual. When he talks his eyes, words feel as if they bite at the lowest point of my brain where from my neck sprouts. He’s smart outspoken liberal yet chooses his words very carefully. I……hardly talk when he is around. Mostly I mouth my stuff in my mind and plan to tell him later but never happens. She talks like a sweet virgin spring just born out of a mountain creak. She’s got a big filled head too if you know what I mean. When they talk, converse, sometimes he forgets about me. Though I am the freaky popcorn here. He warms up just suddenly gleams cracks stupid jokes and pinches.( nothing from her side. She is as if a kitten and a cat, both, a mother and a baby.) I don’t feel bad but deluded cornered his shiny face furrows my brows. But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know .He doesn’t realize. He’s fat, no? I never look at them straight I look straight into the gap between them. IT’S all black around me. It becomes very difficult to push through suddenly all the time and grasp the hands of the ticking clock tightly so that time can’t be any different. And then it all stops .She hurriedly takes a taxi. It whooshes past me. Surprisingly one door still open. I look around and he’s limped much further ahead too far away for me to call him back.
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