The Girl with cinnamon eyes (On Hold)

Chapter: 30

I gazed at him with a fusion of confusion and idiotic expression. He settled his front hair and scratched his eyebrow with an index finger. I gulped the lump forming in my throat. His paranoid actions were enough for him to admit in mental asylum.

"Sorry buddy for my disgraceful actions"., he urged suddenly with a feeble voice.

I had exigous courage to sit beside him at his faded white bed. I gradually approached towards him.

"Buddy", he uttered. I was looking at the messed cookies crumbs spread at the different portion of his bedsheets.

"I think every man in this planet has the right to choose. If you don't like the judgement, you can leave it. Right?"

"Yes," I said.

"Love is a cancer of it migrates from one place to another"., I dropped my philosophy.

He chuckled.

"Eh, metastasis?"

I loathe those type of exasperating person who will drop their unnecessary philosophy on person's mind which they seldom (1 in 1000 times) perform.

"Merry is dominating. She always wants me to do the things that she likes. I hate eating pasta but she always brings pasta in my birthday. She wants me to wear her favourite colour. Red makes me look like a useless balloon."

I cleared my throat. I folded my hands and touched my nose. (Dear readers, the weather was unfriendly).

"The conclusion is that you hate red".

"No"., he looked and stretched the word in maximum irritation.

I did not replied.

"Well, do you love someone?," I asked.

"Yes, Monica my darling,". he replied

"Monica?"

"Monica is a student of biochemistry section A."

"Err, she looks cute"., I lied (She looked like a papaya tree).

"What about Merry?," I asked.

"I will persuade her somehow"., he answered.

I jumped up with a hidden smile. I was elated that I had one percent chance of making her mine.

______________

The time elapsed like a butterfly flying in a zig-zag motion. I kept yawning and gazing at the pendulum clock.

Here, Rose entered like a hurricane. immediately entered in an excited state from ground state. My eyes had a passionate fire dancing for Rose.

"You have to take the syrup"., Rose sounded like his mother.

"I know"., he replied.

"Just take it".

He opened the lid and gulped the whole bottle.

"Happy?", he asked.

"What are you up to, Borocho?", she shouted awaking my mother who hibernated like a grizzly bear.

"Do you wanna die?", she said with soft tears in her eyes.

"I am already dying"., he answered.

I am annoyed by the cliche toxic drama of the lovers standing few meters away from me. They had no love but just misinterpretation.

My heart was somewhere filled with commiseration for Borocho because he was just moving like a pendulum with pandemonium. I may never be able to comprehend his invisible pain - Invisible to the system and the surrounding.

On the other hand, Merry Dawn (my Rose), the love of my life. She was an inaudible tune. Her eyes narrates different story - story of fear, isolation, trauma, horror, innocence, cloudiness, pride and prejudice. A kind of poetic Dolores.