The slow rumbling of the train colliding with the tracks echoed all around her. The aroma of coffee still lingered in her unfinished cup. As she looked out the window, the image of trees rushing by gave her a sense of calmness. Her hair jostled ever so slightly from the wind coming in through the window.
"𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪?" That one sentence bounced like a ping pong ball in her mind. A harmless yet a profoundly difficult question. A literature professor asking that question would use some sort of poetry to define what love is. But, it is so much more than that. What makes people 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚? Millions and millions of songs and poetries and stories written , yet mundane people, like you and me, can't seem to answer when asked this question in particular.
How often do we fall in love? Was it love when I first laid my eyes on him? Was it love when I first heard his deep, honeyed voice? Was it love when I saw how his chocolate brown eyes lit up under the sun? Or was it love when I felt my entire being shaken just at the hint of a smile forming on his lips?
What is love? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚? She thought, as she let herself be immersed in the flashbacks of him.
"Can I join you?" A warm voice jolted her awake from her day dream. She looked up at him. Chocolate brown curls falling over his thick eyelashes, cheeks adorned with a few small pimples, a black ring on his index finger. She nodded silently, as she kept on looking at him, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙙.
He shifted towards the empty seat in front of her, and flashed her a soft smile. 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙨𝙤 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙧? It took her a few seconds to realize she was staring at him. She quickly looked away, rapidly blinking her eyes. They both sat in complete silence, the hum of the axles underneath their feet gave her a sense of grounding in his mangetic presence. Every now and then she would steal glances of him, noticing his jet black shirt with a small red tick on the left side of his chest.
"So where are you going?" He cleared his throat, grabbing her attention. She tried to speak, but her throat suddenly felt like it hadn't had a drop of water in years. She swallowed visibly as she struggled to form a clear sentence.
"I don't know, honestly. I just wanted to leave. Go somewhere, 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. I just wanted to go away." She said, astonished by her own vulnerability.
"That's fair. I can understand. Sometimes it just gets too much, doesn't it?" He said, tousling his already messy hair. The action caught her attention as she felt herself getting more and more transifixed by him.
"It does." She replied, looking out of the window. His inquisitive eyes were suddenly too much to bear.
"You look like you have a lot on your mind. Care to share?" He asked, his eyes showed concern. As she looked back at him, his eyes looked magnificent. She had never seen such a mundane color look so intensely mesmerising. His question seemed to disarm her barbed-wired fences. She felt herself unraveling. She had only one burning question in her mind.
"What is love to you?" It came out of her before she could stop herself. He seemed shocked by the question, it definitely caught him off guard. As he looked at her, he didn't know what to say.
"Love can mean a myriad of things. It means different for everyone. I guess for me, it means someone who understands me. The only intimacy I crave is the small and simple act of understanding someone." He spoke, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. She nodded slowly, taking it all in.
"And what if you love someone they're never able to understand you? Do you think you'd still be able to love them?" He went silent. Deathly silent. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was his answer. Maybe he would go deathly silent towards a person he loved.
"What is love to 𝙮𝙤𝙪?" He asked the same question. But she had no answer. Instead she felt the need to ask all of the questions in her mind.
"Do you think silence can kill a person?" As she looked at him, she realized he didn't understand the question.
"Do you think loving someone and receiving radio silence so often from them, can kill a person?" She further elaborated. His brows furrowed as he looked deep in thought.
"It can hurt a person, sure. But I don't think it can kill someone. I feel the need to go silent when I'm hurt." He said, casually tossing in the last sentence.
She chuckled sarcastically. So clueless. People never realize the pain they inflict on others. What's more terrifying is they never realize that they've done something wrong either.
"I think you still need a lot of empathy to understand what I mean." She smiled, softly at him.
"I don't think I have any empathy left in me." He said, his eyes growing darker. All went deathly silent around them. He seemed to be battling his own demons in his head. There was that silence again. How much she 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 it.
She could feel the coldness in her bones, with it's sharp claws slowing digging in her. Why did his silence affect her this much? Why did it matter? Why? She was filled with a myriad of questions again. Questions only he could answer.
There was that dreadful but exhilarating feeling in her heart. She felt like she was spell bound. She felt something tugging at her heartstrings. As she looked at him again, he seemed to be covered in a blanket of grief. She so desperately wanted to know what ails him. But she kept quiet. The rest of the train ride was uneventful. She kept looking out of the window while he kept doing things unbeknownst to her. As the train gradually came to a stop, she was jolted back to reality.
The guy in front of her had left the compartment. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. The urge to run out and find him was almost uncontrollable. She looked at the place he was sitting mere moments ago, and a piece of paper caught her eye. She leaned forward to pick it up.
"𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣. 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚. -𝙃-"
The paper had an address scribbled messily on it. She smiled at the prospect of meeting him again. She carefully placed the paper in her purse and waited for the train to move again. Someday, she will come back to finish their conversation. 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙮.
