She Was Alive, Beside Me

And again I stood outside the same cafe, where I saw her, sipping from her mug of coffee with her long fingers wrapped around the mug, as if warming her cold hands on a freezing wintry day.
Wait? Do you know me? No.
We never met.
Hi! myself, Kabir Malhotra, a Literature student, by fate.
So, let me begin again.
I stood outside the same cafe, where I saw her, sipping from her mug of coffee with her long fingers wrapped around the mug, as if warming her cold hands on a freezing wintry day.
She looked weird, distorted, her features – sharp, her fingers – long, her hands – slim. The word ‘slender’ would describe her better.
And a point to be noted: SHE WAS NOT COLORFUL.
Had I known that I would fall in love with HER, I would not have thought of her as weird and bizarre. But a person’s hypothesis should not be ignored and I am a person, a human. And my mind is more of a person than I am, as a whole.
I miss her.
Offbeat? Yeah.

I miss her like the desert misses the rain and when it rains, the desert regrets about missing it so much.
We often make a perspective about someone which is wrong and only I know how broken she was. She was a havoc in herself. A black chaos, waiting to be resolved.
Her silvery eyes mirrored her spirit. How strong she was!
The burlywood colored smile adhering on her lips spoke so much about what always remain unsaid.
I liked it when she tied her ash brown hair into a bun and the auburn brown colored curls hung near the edges of her ear.
And a point to be noted: THE TAPED BOOKS SHE READ.
The different colored books she read spoke so much about her. The black words she had underlined told so much about her mind and heart. It was as if she always carried them in her reddish heart.
Her white silence always comforted me. Whenever I heard her breathe under the blue web of an immortal silence, I thanked god for she was alive, living  beside me, with me.
She loved only a few people, others were just a herd for her. And I am glad that for one minute part of my life she loved me too. She enjoyed staying around me. Her words tasted like cannabis, taking toll over me everytime she spoke.
And then she was no more.
I put color into her because I saw her colorless. Dark and pale. She didn’t love plenty of them and maybe, after her reincarnation, she would love them a little more and appear colorful.
Colors – most of them she hated.
Colors – here I fill into her.
One fine day – daffodil smile – ‘I am alright, Kabir’ – pale eyes and a soul to lose.  

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