Short story collection

Soul sisters..

                       I was waiting here for the past twenty five minutes at the same Cafe Coffee Day.
It was raining outside,  and the dim lit interior of the cafe and the soothing music playing in the background and a hot gourmet cocoa in hand.. it's a wonderful blend, it's something makes me warm and cozy inside out. At least for me, it always felt like a cocoon that protects me from all the worries in the world and calm my nerves with hot dark chocolate and creamy milk.
I could just sit down here like this for hours without a care in the world, lost to the world and covered in peace and calm.

But today the cosiest place in the world wasn't soothing my nervous self a bit..none at all. I tugged the hem of my olive green top that I was wearing nervously, hoping I still looked presentable.

This is the fifth day in a row I am waiting for someone to show up here..
Someone I really come to love and care for. Someone I share a bond , that I would never be able to explain in coherent words..I am waiting for my pen friend of six years to show up here.
It's not even making any sense, in a world, where everything is electronic, where people meet and live in a virtual world everything is technology bound..life and relationships also included.
When having a real friend is rare and scarce, here I was waiting for a person, whom I never get to meet till this day.

It all started when my granny pestered me to go with her to her book club one weekend.
I wasn't very keen to accompany her there but she is my favourite person in the world and my partner in crime, so I just ended up in the middle of a group of old beautiful ladies.
Despite of my reluctance at first, I enjoyed being there. They all adored and pampered me like their own granddaughter and I loved the warm feeling of pure adoration and attention I got, that I became their unofficial book club member.
And in one such meeting, one of the grandmother, who always adored me asked me a favour.
She asked me to be a pen friend for her granddaughter, who was living faraway from her.
I still remember how I had knitted my eyebrows together in confusion about the favour.
I am not a person with good conversation skills you see. And I don't have many friends either. I have lost many of them in my life, sometimes I believe that there's no such thing called true friendship. I was such a person, who stopped believing in friendship. So this favour was kind of out of the world for me. It took me days to think about it and make a decision. Actually I didn't want to let that grandma down, because I kind of started liking her. So I told her that I would give it a try. That's how I met my pen pal..or Eshana or my own Esha Di.
When I got to know that she is a single child like me, I was wondering if we could make a real bond in spite of my relevance to the total idea of pen pals.

After poking and pondering my heart for days, finally I wrote a letter to Eshana , that made me realize how terrible a writer I am.
It was just a simple letter which included my basic information and some pleasantries. It turned out such a tedious task to write a hand written letter to someone whom I have never met, I just wished that it's my first and last letter to her.

Then days and weeks just rolled in making me wonder, if that letter even reached her. When I was about to forget the total ordeal of pen pals, I received a beautiful letter in response from Eshana. It was beautiful, literally. The golden cover adorned with stars and moon made me smile widely before even opening the letter.
Once I opened it, it felt like Iwas meeting someone ,who is a part of me.
Eshana was older than me..and she had many things in common with me. And her words felt genuine and loving,
that made my happiness beyond measure, because then I knew I would never regret having such a pen pal in my life.

As the days passed , Eshana Di became a part of my life. She was a designer by profession and lived with her dad in another city but we were as close as anyone can become through letters.
Letters buried in golden covers filled my cupboard and her words filled my empty soul, which I came to know was empty, after I met her.