The culpable silence 

I gaze across the sandy stretch to the church’s entrance. She comes out with a hint of a sideward glance. She really does look young for her age. She sees me looking at her. We don’t smile, I wonder why though.

A couple of chairs are set diagnol to me and she settles herself there. I should go talk to her. But something holds me back. I continue watching her, the watch now crossing over to being a stare. But I am sure she doesn’t mind. She looks at me back, I am sure she must be wondering why I am looking at her like that. It’s not like me to not go and talk to her. But lately I have not been myself. The societal norms are a burden now.

It’s not like we don’t have anything in common. On the contrary we have lots in common. 23 per cell, I guess.

No, it’s not that we are in middle of fight. Somehow I can’t muster up the enthusiasm to talk to her, make her laugh. It always had been easy for me. But right now, I am enjoying this quiet a little too much. She understands, she always did.


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