I find a letter in a box from an old friend. A few words to say she is fine, but I am not and never will be again. She needs me to be gone, so I respond.
Dear Sarojini,
That day: the last day, we went for a pleasant drive and laughed like maniacs. You were always good at that; it's what made us close, but then life happened, and your laughter turned.
Nothing was funny anymore.
We got lost and waited for the sun to rise, our last sunrise. It was a frigid day, but I'm glad I have that memory.
Now the sky is dark and silent, and I wonder what might have been. But mostly, I wonder how you are. What a life you have created for yourself and who you're with now.
It's like laughing again.
No matter how much I think about you, I cannot live in that moment. It is in there, with the other memories, but it cannot come out. It's stuck in the box, like my memory of you.
On this page, the only thing that remains is the word "I," which holds an unbreakable truth.
To my love, I am sorry.
Dear Sarojini,
That day: the last day, we went for a pleasant drive and laughed like maniacs. You were always good at that; it's what made us close, but then life happened, and your laughter turned.
Nothing was funny anymore.
We got lost and waited for the sun to rise, our last sunrise. It was a frigid day, but I'm glad I have that memory.
Now the sky is dark and silent, and I wonder what might have been. But mostly, I wonder how you are. What a life you have created for yourself and who you're with now.
It's like laughing again.
No matter how much I think about you, I cannot live in that moment. It is in there, with the other memories, but it cannot come out. It's stuck in the box, like my memory of you.
On this page, the only thing that remains is the word "I," which holds an unbreakable truth.
To my love, I am sorry.
