Sometime, almost a month ago, K finally amputated her dead extension. She had let it be as it had no ill effects on her daily chores, what it impacted was a small part of her mind that insisted on caging memories. Red, pungent, languidly spicy memories.
6:45pm, Carter Road. breeze wafting through our hair, aiding to cool off the sticky shower wetness. The sea across signaling a late sunset. A table in the corner, distancing itself from hand held lovers with permanent smiles; afraid of self cynicism and vicarious pleasures. A phone call. A 'we will talk later' reply. A 25 sec eye contact and the phone was handed over. Ten mins later a firm, harsh but polite message was sent. All this amongst chattering, doughnut nibbling, leg pulling, coffee sipping and dissecting Tommy Hilfiger's men's casuals.
It wasn't K, could have never been her. It was Oyster seeker. It was K's present asking her past to bugger off.
An sms to Black Pearl disposed everything that K had held into her. Dispossessing herself from his memory was something that she could never get herself to word. Now it was said, like a sign on a billboard across the western express highway.
" He used to be handsome to eyes that saw more than what appeared to be.
He used to be 'princess Sophia' to arms that felt the warmth of his heart.
He used to have potential to a mind that saw his talent.
He used to be a memory of places, people and funny incidents.
He used to be a name, then an acronym, then a trait.
He used to be a random sms, a phone call from a deleted number
He just used to be .... "
