"Serendipity" Part - 11

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Part - 11
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(In this part he is reciprocating to her answers)

You have changed. You are not the one I once met by the twilight's warp. You are not the one I talked to who looked like being covered with the golden slivers of sunshine. You are not that beach girl with whom I had my life best of best moments. Not the same dreamy woman but a brittle, ageing girl; not the fine silk or satin but a crumbled sheet of cotton.

Your words now come drenched in a breath of coffee; your sighs now wear smoke rings around them. Your voice not soft but wrapped in barbwires of arrogance, your smile not born but drawn from a cellar of old and used pleasantries.

And you, not yourself but a slave to the body of your illusions. You carry along with yourself your own definitions of happiness. You wear them, drive them, eat them, drink them and use them. The definitions.

We don't talk like we used to; our words approach each other like suited men, greet, sit and then discuss the "business" and the "purpose". I try going back to the old days and you laugh it off in a wisp of smoke and then you push it aside like some unwanted file on your table. Then you shower me with the answers of all my questions which I had never asked. So impertinent.

You laugh when not desired, you smirk when not expected, and you sympathized when not asked for. And I see all the colors of your face on the thousand tiny mirrors that sit glued to your well decorated wall and watch us like prying eyes.

Her gaze was fixed on the cup of coffee that she was so silently stirring. The dark whirlpool funnels deeper as the teaspoon scrapes against the walls of the cup. Her silence unfolds its own comprehension.

He stood up and said "Goodbye. Nice meeting you."