The morning mist

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 20; the twentieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The morning mist reminded him of her. It had been her ritual - staring across the window while Kantabai, served their morning coffee. He liked his coffee hot and strong and she preferred keeping her coffee waiting, just like she had kept him waiting all these years. He never really knew how to wait, Oh! He hated waiting, but she had taught him to wait.

Being a Assistant Director of a multinational company, he always had a hectic schedule. He wouldn’t call himself workaholic but she had always made fun of him, asking him to ‘ jump a little, dance a little, sing a little.’ He never really understood her- He couldn’t understand what could make someone stare for ages together at the clouds and trees.....

As he kept watching the morning mist, he didn't realize that his coffee had turned cold.....

'We can still be friends',
she said, after they broke up.
They never discussed the how
Nobody talks about the how anyway.
A year and half with her
was a long time for him.
But longer than that
was the time needed
to forget, to erase and to heal.
Like the rest in her life, He too slipped away.
Very slowly at first...
And soon she couldn't recall his name.
' We can still be friends'
thats what she said.

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Credits

Image - Window Rain Drops by Eric Alder
Courtesy - www.deviantart.com via www.blogaton.in