Ficton XIV

Where are you?” she yells. Which has become kind of a habit nowadays.

“At a friend’s place.” he calmly answers.

“What are you doing?”

“Err. Talking on the phone, with you?”

“I mean other than that.”

“Nothing really. Having some drinks.”

“Can you come over?”

“No. I have company, I told you.”

“Am hungry!”

“Eat something, then.”

“Well, Einstein, I can’t.


“Because both my thumbs are burnt, that’s why.”

“And how did you manage to do that to both thumbs?”

“Well, I was preoccupied. I forgot the kadai was hot. And I tried to put it aside.”

“Sigh. Is there a day that you don’t do something stupid to yourself? Like walk into walls, burn hands?”

“Will you stop being mean? You could try some niceness. It really isn’t that hard, you know. You just have to try a little bit.”


And then the first tear trickles down. Slowly. She wipes it away and tries not to sniffle into the phone to give it away.


“Stop what?


“Am not crying!”


“Am not!

“Am not going to ask until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I miss my mom.” she sobs. “She would have fed me today.” “Would you have fed me today, if you were here?”

“Well, I just put two drunk friends to bed and tucked them in, don’t you think I would feed someone whose fingers are burnt?”

“Why cant you ever give a straight answer?”

“What was so complicated about my answer?”


And it starts all over again. The pain of being alone hits her, in waves. She sits down and starts trembling too. And hangs up. The phone rings.

“What now?”

“Open the door.”


“Open the damn door”

She runs to the door. And grins widely as she opens it.

“Weren’t you supposed to be crying?”

“Oh shut up!” she says and melts into his arms.

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