Talking about that day was painful. The tears in your eyes, the pain in the setting of your lips, the way you held your arms closed on top of your body as if barely holding yourself together from falling apart. Hell, even thinking about that day is painful. How we ever came to meet in this universe and why we ever had to move apart even after all the wishing in our minds will forever be beyond me.
Left are only these few lines scribbled upon tissues and this almost torn-to-pieces strip of paper. It reminds of that day we sat in my favourite bar in town. What was it called again? Ah, The Yellow Book. The lovely Spanish lady made us an extra strong cocktail for that day, cz we had already finished trying out all the others. We sat down and looked through the different board games strewn around.
I hated board games. I always had a sneaking suspicion that you agreed with me just to match what I felt!
Anyway, so there we were, two random blips in the cosmology of space-time randomly pitted together in a chance encounter which stuck in our minds and seemed to pull us closer and closer as time went.
It wasn’t even that long a time. Barely a month had passed since we started talking I believe. And so, there we were, one golden haired, one black.
We sneaked some paper from the machine when no one was looking and started making bucket lists. For people like us, bucket lists were a rebellion against “our” normal. We would be damn embarrassed to make bucket lists any other time of our lives, but well, love makes you do crazy things.
2 years after you left, I pick up my tattered half of the list and look at it lovingly, trying to send love poems to you from half way across the world.
Do you think fate would be careless enough to throw us together once more? Cz, this time, I don’t think I would let go.