Gallery

Staring at my phone’s gallery, I wondered if my pieces could ever be recollected. Brows never drenched in droplets, yet eyes dragged entire soul to the bottom. You were so good with surprises! Often emotions bewildered, tears roller-coastered between happiness and fear. The only way I’d ever solve my scattered puzzles were to find the shards in memories we ever made. I scroll with anxious flick. There you were crashing pillows on my face. Childish, immature…perfect! Struggling to make castles out of cushions and cuddles.

Chuckling to myself I swiped further, back to your birthday. Naïve, innocent, pure excitement and surprise. When I swirled in a cake in front of you, most clichéd of the ways possible.

All I could see was a little girl, and emotions only comparable to when you got your first doll-house. I would’ve clicked a better photo, only if you could resist your cravings for a dollop of cream topping.

The sirens were echoing closer every moment.

I picked up your phone, lying cold on the study. Fingers still scrolling through the endless gallery, as though walking down a hallway of memories. I stumbled upon your ‘Dear Diary Vlog’. I remember that day. Your relentless wailing and panting on a lifeless hand. Your first and the only hero ever, had found a different home. My shoulders had soaked up the heaviest tears, and the lightest head. A kiss on your forehead, only if love could heal wounds.

By now they had taped up the “Police Line Do Not Cross” round your room.

Shrugging off any tears I swiped further. I don’t know how or why, but this incident gaped up an isolation for you. You started to change, for the worse probably. I was cut-off mostly, while you convinced yourself of solitude. You drove away further, the more I tried to stitch up things. Whirlwind had broken with no evident cause. You grew fonder to gloominess. You loathed, you abused, you broke-down. You needed space. I needed you.

I was stopped by a comforting hand, a solace to the ever so stinging wound.

She had posted me a letter. A letter to apologise. The most I’d smiled in a while.

“It was me. It’s always been me. I’ve always loved you. I’ll always love you. Goodbye”

I stared at her lifeless face. ‘Sleeping pills’ hammered on me. Depression got the most of her, loneliness killed the rest.

You were always good at surprises, weren’t you?