Reminiscent......Just one dance
She was giving away things, attempting at giving away memories, if there existed any such possibility, she wanted to give it a try.
Two tickets of the Flamenco show at Torres Bermejas. She was a keeper and a collector. She kept those tickets safely even if they were an year old. As much as she was crazy about dancing, he treated her to that national dancing show of the Spain, on a stage which was classically decorated inspired by the art and architecture of Alhambra. Everything about him was perfect. And yes it was a perfect evening. She tore up the tickets and throw them in the air, haphazardly they fell everywhere in her bedroom.
She was removing all the footprints, all the reminiscent of their times together. May be this was the way out, may be this way she would get rid of his imprints in her life.
There were two half burnt perfumed candles, one was pink, other of a cream color. Surrounded by delicately beautiful glass shells, they bought it while roaming around the salamanca streets. Even then, she hadn't told him, she was planning to prepare a special dinner for them both and she needed some candles to lighten up the ambiance.
There were two half burnt perfumed candles, one was pink, other of a cream color. Surrounded by delicately beautiful glass shells, they bought it while roaming around the salamanca streets. Even then, she hadn't told him, she was planning to prepare a special dinner for them both and she needed some candles to lighten up the ambiance.
She lit up the remains of the perfumed candles and kept them at each of the bedsides. She watched them for a minute without blinking her eyes, as if to say goodbye to them for the very last time. It was always terrible to bid farewells. She let them burn.
Spread on the bed was a plain black pure chiffon sari, with the same colored silk blouse embellished delicately with black pearls and sequences. she gently traced the fabric with her fingers, they begin to burn. It was a burning memory of their only romantic evening together. A tender tear ran though her left eye. Suddenly she was short of breath. Those were the most dearest moments in her memory book and it was hard to let them go. Yet she was trying. In her heart of hearts she knew it to be a failing attempt, yet she was trying. She picked up the far corner of her sari and brought it near the flame of the perfumed candle and waited for a while. And then she let the most delicate chiffon fabric run through her fingers on to the flame. She could imagine it catch the fire but it did not. Oh now she remembered. The pure chiffon fabric never catches fire, some years ago a tailor told her. In desperation she threw away the fabric on to the floor and walk over her favorite sari across the room.
It was Versace bright crystal she was holding now. she moved to the full length mirror of her dressing table and removed the crystal cap, the transparent bottle was more than half full with the pink perfumed fluid. She began to spray, on her hair and then on her neck, on her wrist, until she saw the ring in her ring finger. A wave of anger enveloped her entire being and she threw the whole bottle of her favorite gift on to the opposite wall. With a horrific sound it shattered into innumerable pieces on to the floor. And so did she. Shattered, on to the floor, with a heart broken into innumerable pieces.
She gave away all the reminisces she had. Except the memory neurons of the brain. There was no giving away for that.
Spread on the bed was a plain black pure chiffon sari, with the same colored silk blouse embellished delicately with black pearls and sequences. she gently traced the fabric with her fingers, they begin to burn. It was a burning memory of their only romantic evening together. A tender tear ran though her left eye. Suddenly she was short of breath. Those were the most dearest moments in her memory book and it was hard to let them go. Yet she was trying. In her heart of hearts she knew it to be a failing attempt, yet she was trying. She picked up the far corner of her sari and brought it near the flame of the perfumed candle and waited for a while. And then she let the most delicate chiffon fabric run through her fingers on to the flame. She could imagine it catch the fire but it did not. Oh now she remembered. The pure chiffon fabric never catches fire, some years ago a tailor told her. In desperation she threw away the fabric on to the floor and walk over her favorite sari across the room.
It was Versace bright crystal she was holding now. she moved to the full length mirror of her dressing table and removed the crystal cap, the transparent bottle was more than half full with the pink perfumed fluid. She began to spray, on her hair and then on her neck, on her wrist, until she saw the ring in her ring finger. A wave of anger enveloped her entire being and she threw the whole bottle of her favorite gift on to the opposite wall. With a horrific sound it shattered into innumerable pieces on to the floor. And so did she. Shattered, on to the floor, with a heart broken into innumerable pieces.
She gave away all the reminisces she had. Except the memory neurons of the brain. There was no giving away for that.
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