Raised voices, angered expressions and bitter complaints. There were too many words spoken to make any sense. I, who always agreed, disagreed. She, who always understood, misunderstood.
It was a rotten phone call.
In utter confusion and helplessness of unexplained gestures; I asked her, “don’t you trust me?” And that’s when silence struck like a thunderbolt; the line dropped and all I could hear was a melancholic tone ___ just like the one you hear in an ICU when someone dies. Something died between us.
It was a forgotten phone call.
I sailed through empty days in sheer absence of time. Days started wearing months. That melancholy was still there each time I picked up the phone to dial her number. That constant tone and saddening fear stopped my fingers from pressing the buttons.
Then one day, the phone rang, she called me up after all those years and said,
“I don’t know.”
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April 21st, 2008 at 5:12 pm
hi Mr. Saleem
i really liked this story of yours. It left a bitter smile on my face…really good work:)
May 7th, 2008 at 2:16 pm
Hi Amir, sounds like being in love–the constant understandings and misunderstandings. Looks like the call wasn’t really forgotten, was it?
Best,
Laju K.
http://lajuk.blogspot.com
May 8th, 2008 at 9:22 am
Hazan:
Thank you for appreciating the story. I will try that next time it leaves a sweet smile on your face
Laju:
You are right. However, sometimes we remember but we dont feel the same way; its the same as forgetting if you really look at it that way