It was friends’ reunion. College pals took time out from their busy schedule to accommodate an evening of togetherness. A sea beach resort was something that everyone looked forward to. By afternoon, convoy reached the resort, which had rooms opening up to the roaring Arabian Sea. Party began by evening. Laughter and nostalgic chatter filled the air. Other elements that caught attention were aromatic food and exhilarating wine. Love, laughter, food and drink made everyone tipsy.

There she was in the crowd; smartly dressed in a pair of long white shirt and shorts revealing her slender athletic curves. Her eyes and lips immaculately defined to highlight her features. A twinkling smile accompanied her at every turn. Endowed with right body and attitude, she made the hearts flutter. She carried a glass of red wine in her long, delicate fingers painted in red, and walked towards the beach.

On the beach, few sturdy bamboo chairs made of intricately intertwined canes were kept under the lamp post. The weave created a net like structure. It was quarter to one as she sat on the chair closest to the sea. She starred at the dark vastness of invisible roars as the water splashed against the boulders and clattered. She sat mesmerised by the sound and beauty of the night with a notepad and pen in her hand. Her legs folded on the chair touching her bosom. Under the lamp post she appeared as an apparition amidst the dark sky.

The roar outside, drew her attention to the conniving thrust of emotion within her. She had marvellously transformed her body in a stoic reservoir made up of stone walls that contained the ebb and flow of feelings. No matter how hard they dashed, splashed, thundered, roared, or whined or pained, but all in vain. There were no cracks and crevices for venting.

She scribbled, smiled and scratched. One last attempt to write, she smiled. Her body slowly metamorphosed in sand particles, piece by piece, and slipped through the pores in the chair. The strong chair could not contain her stately form and moaned as it melted in thin air.

Dawn witnessed her snow white shirt and shorts crumpled up in the chair, holding the notepad and pen. The leaves of the pad craved for attention. The last words that she managed to scribble were borrowed from the movie Runaway Bride and read:

 I guarantee there’ll be tough times. I guarantee that at some point, one or both of us is gonna want to get out of this thing. But I also guarantee that if I don’t ask you to be mine, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know, in my heart, you’re the only one for me.


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