The Diary of a Dead Girl

Letter 4

Dear Person reading this,

Today I followed Kartik to the coffee shop. It had been 3 whole days since I last saw him. He had come over to my place to hand over some of my belongings to my mother. It included my white pullover which I had forgotten at his place the last time we met. He'd also brought a few of my poems and short story books. I shared all my writing work and thoughts only with him. I did not appreciate him giving it all to my mom. She never appreciated my work which according to her was a waste of my time which would not lead me anywhere in life. Maybe he thought that she would feel my pain through my writings and realise what I went through.

Today he looked unbelievably gorgeous with his checkered shirt and denims. His dimple constantly teasing his right cheek. The day he came to my house he looked like a nomad who'd broken through a mental asylum. His hair ruffled and unkept. His beard growing rapidly as if he was tending it with manure and fertilizers. He was dressed for a pajama party with zombies.And here I see him in his full glory. What was the reason for this heavenly transition? Coffee Shop! 

Was Kartik going to meet someone at the coffee shop? Is he seeing someone else? Questions popped up in my mind like innumerable popcorns. Starbucks had always been our favourite place. We spent hours amidst gossips and coffee. Was I already being replaced? He walked up and ordered a lemon bar frappuccino, something I always ordered. He hated it and failed to understand how strong my love for it was. I was taken aback when I heard him order something he disliked so much.

He grabbed his drink and sat on a nearby sofa. His eyes wandering about. He finally took out a huge scrapbook from his backpack. Making sure that his drink was at a safe distance he opened the book.

If someday you don't find me besides you,

If someday I'm gone,

This book will remind you about how far we came,

 Amidst the sunshine, battling the rain.

I gasped! It was the same scrapbook I gifted him on our second anniversary. I had stuck around a 100 pictures of ours with little captions that would make him smile. I was wrong. I could see tears slowly yet steadily flood his eyes. He tried hard to stop them from crashing against the pages. He couldn't. Pitter patter they fell one by one on the crisp pages moistening them. He flipped vigourously through the pages and reached the last one. There I had written in big bold letters - To be continued.......

He sat in the coffee shop for the next two hours deep in thought. I wanted to dive into his conscience and understand what was going on. He sat there motionless. I wanted to hold his face in my hands and tell him that it would all be okay with time, just the way he used to make me believe in the power of time. He stood up to leave. He left. Leaving me remorse and guilty, along with his untouched lemon bar frappuccino.

I stop now. I promise to write soon!

                                                                       -Yours from the afterlife,

                                                                         Sia