Memories.

Another year has passed. Time flies. While she placed herself on the same blemishes and congested city square where they broke up last summer, a shiver bolted through her body.

Goosebumps and she was as much amazed as on the day and the moment he proposed her. Except for the sultry heat and the humid wind, it all appeared different. Probably she was in a trance of love too strong to remember anything except the bistro where they dated for the first time. The bakery shop at one corner and a shoemaker next to it. She turned around and there stood a new mall standing in all its glory.

One year is a lot of time. From angels to demons and from “us” to “me”, things have changed beyond words. She pitied herself for being so stupid. But that was the only thing she wanted back then. No regrets.

In a fraction of second, it all started flashing in her mind, as if somebody has turned on the slideshow of all the memories. Watching a couple sharing the chewy walnut brownie at the bakery nearby she smiled and wondered the mysteries of life.

“What’s the time?”, a heavy voice echoed her eardrums and brought her back to reality. “Quarter to 3”, she whispered in a husky yet sonorous tone and turned around to see the enquirer.

Tears started rolling down her cheeks. No, she is not destined to this ordeal. It can’t be an accident either. It appeared as if she has been trapped in some kind of vicious circle. It started at that place, ended there and now he is standing right in front of her eyes again at the same place and the time of year similar to previous ones.

“Oh hi, long time! How have you been?”, he asked.
Not a word and she darted into a cab and then back home.

She cried for the next two hours. Realizing she had been fooling herself for past one year. No, she is still not over him. But she was good at pretending, not only to the world but to herself.

The first time they made up, the first touch, the hugs and the everlasting stories, it all flashed up right in front of her eyes. As if she is on some mind-altering drug.

She decided to face it head-on. Standing in front of the mirror, she started staring. She stared her eyes for a long time. All this time she never faced herself or her soul. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with herself. Not long when she turned around. It was very painful to look directly into her eyes. It was casting a spell on her. It was speaking stories, reminding her of the eye contact game she used to play with him.

She hated herself for being so open to him. For sharing his bed and bread. The touch made her felt as if she has been cheated upon. He has used her. She cursed herself for planning her life ahead with a guy. For her immaturity and the short-sightedness. How could she plan her life with someone so soon, at an age and a time when her priorities should have been somewhat different.

She picked up a fruit knife lying on the side table and decided to payback. Payback is a real bitch, she thought to herself. She had heard this phrase for a long time, but never knew the real essence of these words.

As she penned down her life in the form of this story, the knife pierced through her skin, her nerves and pumped out the thrust of blood on her face. Within seconds she fainted, as she punished herself for the mistake she never committed.