Not yet. Not just yet.

There is a woman who works in my office. She works at an important position. She is beautiful. The kind of beautiful who would cross your mind after hours, while you’re at home, going about your insipid routine. She has long black hair, those envy-evoking cascading locks, so tame when she ties them into an unkempt bun through the work day. I think she’s in her early thirties. She is ‘nicely tall’ for an Indian woman and she has and take my word for it, good people, no excess body fat. Just the type of good distribution of body fat I’ve always wanted. She dresses impressively for her age, has a gorgeous smile and a laugh that would most definitely light up a glum situation.

Two weeks ago, walking past my desk, she stopped and asked me a question, ‘Tell me, where do you buy your work trousers from?. I have all these trousers that I got along from Delhi when I arrived 2 months ago, and they used to fit me perfectly, like they were tailored for my body, and now, every night before I decide my work outfit for the following day, I have to try on my pants just to make sure I’ll be able to wear those in the morning! I mean, I’ve had tears, literal tears, trying to fit into pants that I’ve bought 2 months ago!’ While this mesmerizing woman gabbled on about how she’s not fitting into a few pair of pants, I kept looking back at her in a daze. Crease lines on her face non verbally conveying such stress of something so trivial.

I wanted to take my hands off of my keyboard and hold hers. I wanted to tell her that the kind of worry that she was allowing to make her beautiful face all crunched up was silly. I wanted to tell her that I was dying inside, that exactly a year from that day, my marriage had fallen apart, that I was so broken inside that I could not tell if I was awake or asleep, that someone I loved with all my heart took all my trust and crumpled it like we do to grocery bills of insignificant value. I wanted to tell her that even though I was there at work every day, admiring her and all the functioning individuals around me, in secret, on the inside, I could no longer tell a truth from a lie.

I did answer her question though. I told her I buy trousers from Mango. Their trousers are worth the price and they last longer. Longer than love.

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