Short Story — Fiction

The huge clock hung on the wall showed 5 am. The room still dark and gloomy with only a tinge of a red light emitting from a small lamp beside the bed. The sound of the fan echoing through the room; the blue wall adorned with photographs and calendars of gods and goddesses.

A huge bed occupied the other half of the room, covered with a pink and yellow bedspread with stripes all over it.

He sat there on his bed unable to go back to sleep. He had never felt so disturbed especially after what had just happened. He always carried a calm demeanor, always cheerful; but today was different. He sense of calmness was lost, lost in a myriad of thoughts that had engulfed him completely. He felt numb.

He had to get up, to begin his day but flashes of the previous night kept lurking around his mind. The demons of the past were haunting him again, but this time he had no time to figure it out. He had to make a decision, either to confront it or live with it all his life.

Love, he thought is a weird feeling itself. It either makes you or breaks you. He was not sure what to call it, for all he knew this might be a one of thing. The passion, the intensity, that prevailed all through the night was what he was looking for again. He wanted to see if the connection felt same. He wanted to see if the passion prevailed. He wanted to know if this was actually love. The day had just begun, but he was waiting for it to end; waiting for them to meet again, waiting for them to be as one soul, intertwined into one other.

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