Walls of Fire

15: Advertisement Flyer

Back to Present (24th April, 2020)

The muscles at the side of my mouth flex, and takes the design of a pleasant smile. My finger traces upon the five bold black letter C R U S H.

"Indeed he was my crush."

It is an undeniable truth.

Now, the main question which may arise is did I confront the truth. No, definitely not.

Never in a million ears was the secret coming out of my mouth. No special treatment would have forced me to utter a word. Not even any barbarous Nazi treatment! The answer was safely and securely locked in my heart. It was not to be divulged out in the public, especially not to James Black.

I was lucky enough because the sniffle had cut down my opportunity of throwing any random name of a celebrity who could be introduced as my crush. The little ach-cho acted as my rescuer, and shoved his questions aside. On an interesting note, James's worries concerning my infirmity were proved into effect. A series of continuous sneezes one after the other certified the possibility of me catching a cold.

The mere possibilities of the sneezes being an effect of allergy died down soon. The high temperature of my body assured the fact I had fever. Of course, continuously sneezes and a running nose also said I was accompanied with cough and cold: aftermath of getting drenched in an outpouring.

Who was the main culprit for my poor health: Adam Scott! Either directly or indirectly he was desperate to ruin my life.

My fingers curl into a fist as the fictitious images from the pages of history stations themselves before me.

I rasp, letting the words escape from between my gritted teeth. "I should have blown off his head with a riffle."

No no no! I shake my head furiously.

I've more important things to ponder about. He does not deserve the minimial respect to occupy the singlest inch of my brain.

The reflection of him needs to be ditched. I have outstripped him, and wandering around this subject is nothing less than a time waste.

I engross myself studiously in the act of studying my precious diary entries.

Dear kitten (the name by which I call my diary),

I swear being restricted to bed with a high temperature and running nose is the worst feeling. During the day all I do is stare at my ceiling or scribble down in my dairy. Slowly as the sun sets down and the lights of the noon fades away, my favorite time of the day comes by. I wait impatiently for the clock to strike 10. As the small hand of the clock shifts to 10, my gaze inevitably gets registered on the door. Is it my mind or heart who enjoys his company?

The question to which I had no answer. The question that I was afraid to ask him.

"I was his kitten." My gaze softens, and for a second, my eyes roots on the word 'kitten'. It has a special meaning in our relationship.

Maybe, the person who has successfully rebuilt my walls is physically absent here. He is in New York during this pandemic fighting. But we do have created a pool of memories in a limited time to drown ourselves into. Memories. Yes memories. A collection of beautiful pictures that stays in our mind and has a special place in our heart.

We never understand when the heavenly moments we spend with our loved ones gets transformed into memories. All we realise is that special person is no more with us. But he or she forever lives in our memories, sometimes for the good and the other times for the worst. A strong - willed person can always try to shake the unpleasant ones. At least, I could not appreciate shaking away the last segments of my beloved lover: our memories.