They exchanged too many glances and were close, too close for friends. She kept looking at him with that sizzling smile, hoping he would notice, and see her for more than just a buddy. But his heart was elsewhere.
They were the almost couple, the couple which almost made it. Theirs was a love story beyond expectations, beyond explanations. At one point of time, he had cared more than her. But the fizzle didn’t last, just like the one on the Coke can, the love story ran out of steam, and they were back to square one. This time, he didn’t care.
They had spent nights making love and getting under each other’s skin. Theirs was the quintessential love story which could have made it, but didn’t. Friendship got in the way, or maybe the lack of reciprocated love, thereby the relationship could not gain an upper hand. But the sun did not shine on them, and they could not flourish under the rays, which dictated the rhythms of their uneven breaths. And the whole equation was lopsided.
The autumn sky claimed them for its own, and cast a long-lasting sparkle on them, which drowned them in its fervour. They were alive with sizzling possibilities, and were completely alive with the hope of ‘me and you’ becoming an ‘us’. Their coupledom would be forfeited in books and movies; they were sure, long after they were gone. Theirs would be no ordinary love story. It would last long after the sun set and the sky turned purple in grief.
They met on the other side of love. their love story was painted in treacherous colours. The love was undisciplined, fired by collective wit, now drove itself towards an epic martial cataclysm : a massive organism with all the rectitude and foresight of an untrained puppy.