Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Hope's Quest for Love - Part 2

[click here for Part 1]

That night, as Hope lied in bed, he thought of the mysterious Love. He had ideas of how she would be like. How unlike with Past, they would be permanent. Despite not finding Love at the given address, his determination did not falter. He replayed the conversation he had with Instinct and Reason over dinner.

“You have to ask her! She might know where Love is,” Instinct exclaimed, enthusiastically. Hope just finished telling them what happened that morning.

“If she did, she would have probably sent Love’s letters to her, instead of leaving them scattered around,” said Reason. “At least, she should have.”

“Well maybe she didn’t have the time,” replied Instinct, defending himself. “Come on, Hope, what could possibly go wrong?” he said, Instinct’s favourite line.

“What could possibly go wrong?” Hope repeated Instinct’s words, flashing a boyish smile at Reason. A lot of things, Reason thought. But he just sighed and continued eating his dinner.

Hope lied in bed, smiling until he fell into a peaceful slumber.

At the that very moment, in the unkept house, the strange girl was sitting on the floor of a shabby room, looking through an old album. Inside were pictures of Love – sweet, beautiful, Love. There was nothing extravagantly glorious about her, to be frank. That was the thing about Love. She didn’t have to try to be endearing, she just was. Her presence amplified every positivity, and of course, Love had her bad days too, just like everybody else. Love overcame them with patience, and soon went back to being normal, if not greater.

As the girl ran her fingers over the pictures, she could imagine the exact moments they were taken. Every sound, every colour, every emotion. She knew Love very well, and she missed her so. Gradually her heart felt heavy with emotion, and the silence of the night was rippled with quiet weeping. Teardrops rolled down her cheeks, falling onto the pages on the album.

“Where are you, Love?” her fragile heart cried. As if a response, she heard her own words echoing in her head.

“Love doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Love doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Love doesn’t live here anymore.”

The only resident of the house was her, Sorrow.

Sunrays seeped into the house through holes in the ragged curtains. A ray of light shined right on Sorrow’s face, kissing her good morning. She weakly picked herself up, preparing for another day to endure. She must have cried herself to sleep, with the album and pictures scattered all around the floor. She walked to the window, and gripped the curtains. She hadn’t opened them ever since Love left. She knew she had to let some light in the sombre house someday. She took a deep breath, attempting to collect some strength. Alas, her grip on the curtains loosened and her hands fell to her side. Not today.

Sorrow went through her days as best as she can. Carrying herself through the minutes, trying not to be weighed down by the heaviness of her grief. Despite living in that seemingly inhabitable house, her life was considerably normal. Horribly dull, but she was surviving. She kept herself busy, to distract her from thinking about how things once were, how she wished the present was like the past.

She was sweeping the floor when the doorbell rang. It startled her. She stood still, hoping the person outside would assume nobody’s home. She did not feel like interacting with people, because she had more than enough conversations in her head. The doorbell rang again. She waited for a second, and slowly walked towards the door. Her hand was on the doorknob, and she waited for a third ring. There wasn’t one.

She didn’t realize that her hand was already turning the doorknob before she could stop herself. The door opened with a creek, and outside stood a man, already halfway to the gate. He turned around at the sound of the door. It was the man from yesterday.


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