He had nearly yelled her name but stopped short when he noticed her snuggling within the blankets. Tiptoeing over, he watched her sleep, only to notice something he had not seen for quite a long time.
Her lips were curved into a smile.
Whenever he woke up earlier than usual, he used to notice the expressions she made in her sleep. She smiled a lot.
There was never an in between. Either she smiled or she didn't.
If he was being honest with himself, he loved to see the sleep smile she smiled without her knowledge.
I wonder what she's dreaming about. Her smile is the warmest I've seen till now.
He tiptoed away after grabbing his toolbox silently and threw a last look at her.
She was still smiling.
Sleep tight Thamrah. I hope your afternoon-mare is a happy one.
He chuckled to himself. She had a habit of bringing in words and verses from everything she read; she loved to incorporate them into her language. And it seemed to him that her habit had successfully been rubbed off on him. He chuckled again.
They're bits and pieces of all the lives I've lived, she'd say.
Is it the same with your poetry ? He had once asked.
She hesitated. He had watched her nose wrinkle itself in utter confusion, as she tried to decide on a proper answer.
I don't know. Not really. And she had paused.
And then, she'd begun again, this time, slowly.
I think they are confessions. Confessions shrouded in wrappings called poetry. Like a mummy shrouded in linen wrappings. It's the truth but with a fancier name. And I guess that's it, because the truth is the core of anything written, especially the art of the word.
He realized she didn't sound like herself. She had never given an answer in such a grave manner. Chills ran down his spine at her words.
The truth but with a fancier name.
Are you okay ? She'd asked. You look like you just got electrocuted.
I'm fine. Your words ... His voice had faltered.
She looked worried for a split second.
I guess you didn't understand.
No, I did ... It's just that, I've never heard of anything like this before.
I did warn you, did I not ? I already told you I have a tendency to say things that probably don't make sense or sound weird.
Except ... That wasn't the case.
Her words make sense, but only to those who can see beyond the horizon and read between the lines.
As he reached for the door handle, he turned back to look at her sleeping figure once again. She was still smiling.
Only ... If you only knew, Thamrah.
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
For The Better, For You : With Love, Thamrah.
Подростковая литература"The universe may have forgiven me for falling in love with you, but it will never forgive me for what I did next." Christopher Jonas is an eighteen year old who hails from the Venice of the East. When a hasty promise made to his best friend takes...
