The one I ran away from
Out of all the boys I loved and ran away from, this one hurt the most.
Not the neighbor's nephew who used to visit during the summer holidays.
Not that teenager either who smeared the garish blue color on my face during Holi and winked when no one was watching.
Not that cyclist who followed me during my afternoon ride from school to home.
Not that boy-man who kept stalked me during my cousin’s wedding.
Not that CEO either, who at a press conference answered all the questions while looking at me, without blinking.
Not that colleague either who introduced me to the gory world of Harlan Coben and grisly Saw movies.
Not that classmate also who sat me down after an embarrassing party scene and told me to dress up better or the one who held my hand to read the lines and told me I will marry thrice.
The boy I miss is the one I met one summer evening. The world looked better when he smiled at me and spoke with his eyes. The one whose calls I stopped taking because I decided to just be friends with him. That’s the one I miss the most these days.
