Don't sink us
for together, we couldn't swim
Her
So, he was kind of cute. Of course he was. His lips were easily defined on an angular face, tall, just like him, and there were those lashes of his, longer than any girl's. It made me envy him. Watching him perform for his group of friends, Surya right by his side, I saw the charm. I saw the fuss. Dark hair, dark eyes, a fairer complexion than most South Indians, Krish wasn't ugly.
It irked me. Boy, did it irk me.
I supposed I deserved my silence, my solitude. Befriending someone always came with noise, something I couldn't afford. Hell, I didn't think I could even let my hair down for two seconds before the wolves came running. And they always came, because they were all wolves, and there were no exceptions.
Not even Krish.
"Shubhadra," his voice, that was what mesmerized me. I always hoped he wouldn't speak to me as if I was no one, that he would be the one to notice me, the real me, or whatever that meant. That one day, when we'd have a real conversation, one about books and movies and our favourite bands, I hoped he would talk to me like I existed, like he was interested.
Because I was someone right then, wasn't I? I may not be myself, but who was that, anyway? Crossing and uncrossing my legs, I sighed. "Yes, Krish?"
"Were you maybe thinking of me?"
"No." I lied. "Why would I be?"
He smiled. Just as he moved his lips to speak, his own pack of wixens approached. "Krish! You just left us between the story. What happens next?"
Looking at me, suddenly brave, he asked, "It's a thriller. An old Telugu movie. Wanna join me?"
Shaking my head, I wanted to nod yes, say yes, be the yes to his no, and answered silently. No.
"Come on. You've got be lonely all by yourself."
Looking at the empty seat, the shake of my head only a silent echo in a valley of lies, I told myself that by myself is okay. That loneliness wasn't unbearable.
Him
She looked miserable.
Sitting there by herself, all by herself, her novel in hand, her hands dainty and plain, her eyes giving her away, I read her like a book.
And she was miserable. She didn't just look it.
Looking away, paying attention to Lily's gossip, to Sunaina's endless tales, I finally had it.
"Surya," I called out to him. "Tell me this girl's story."
"Whose?"
Jerking a thumb in her general direction, I found her gone by the time I had uttered her a second time. "Shubhadra's."
YOU ARE READING
Stag Tales Moon Talk
Novela Juvenil"Must there be a cliched dialogue a man says to the woman of his life as he proclaims his love for her?" "There must," she answered. "It's the one thing that all girls dream about as they fall asleep, wishing for a man who'll understand all of her i...
