Silence. Pin drop silence. Like they said they wanted in class even when the children were barely 6 years old.
Was it the silence before an approaching storm or just the premonition of an impending loss? Not a splinter of her dreary dreams made a noise even when they gashed through the walls of her heart. No, not even a whimper was heard. Was it the language of smothered hopes? Of hurting deeds?
She walked towards the wooden door with the peacock handle and she twisted the handle. As soon as the door parted right from the middle, agonised at the unforeseen and sudden separation, she stood like a stone on a hill.
The early morning breeze seemed to ruffle past the pages of the book on her reading desk. It tilted the daisies in the vase from yesterday's pick from the garden.
But nothing could make her believe that it was the breeze with a tinge of last night's chill that was raising the little hair from her arms and the base of her neck. She stood motionless. The silence, deafening as it was, drummed inside her ears. She didn't realise when her hand changed places from holding the peacock handle to his arm. Yes, him. He had arrived. And she, she just didn't believe it, for appearances could be deceiving and she for one, was too learned to be mocked now... after all this while.
The splash of cold water on her eyelids brought her back into the day that held the breeze that had soothed her curls only sometime back. Yet again? Was she dreaming? The smile. It had to be happening for real for her dreams were not capable of such crystal clear images and sense of surroundings. Yes. The smile. Her lips curved, unknowingly. He was for real. And so was the day. Her storm had arrived. She was ready to get lost in it.
