Mid December, winter was getting colder every day. Days were short too. The environment outside used to be so busy; heavy traffic, horns of vehicles, pedestrians walking home...

There was a bus stop in a distance. People were waiting bus to travel home. The stop was so special, at least to me, because it was the place where I first met her.

She was so special to me. Her name was enough for me to melt even in these cold days of December. She used to call me, often, when she was free. Her name was saved in my phone in special encoded name which only she and I understood. The moment she used to call me or text me used be so damn special. She used to say, " It's been three days already. Aren't you interested to meet me any longer? Or are you busy?" " I'm always free for you", I used to reply.

" I'll be waiting. Same bus stop! Don't you dare be late" had become her signature dialogue.

It was weird that the day she used to call, I used to get tangled into some stuffs, getting late every time. I used to glance myself into mirror, manage my messed-up hair with fingers and rush to the stop.

She'd be waiting for me, using her mobile phone. She would just get up and start walking as soon as she would see me. I used to try to get up to her pace, but silently. We'd walk miles without saying a single word. "God! 15 minutes late is not a joke"- she used to murmur. After some more walk she used to break silence by saying," It's always you who gets late. Always you who don't initiate conversation. It always has to be me to talk first. It's getting late. Aren't you taking me for a coffee?"

Convincing her, I used to take her to café near the end of 69th street. Same table, same corner; it felt like the place was specially made for us. We were regular customer there. Conversation used to get longer and deeper... Her waterfall-like beautiful hair used to cover her face sometimes which she used to manage beautifully. I could feel her eyes get wider when she was excited and narrow when she was shy. Sometimes, my finger would get tangled with her hair too. It was common for us to hold hands and feel our heartbeat getting faster.

When waiter used to come around, she used to snitch her hands off mine. That used to hurt, but I never dared to tell her.

This winter wasn't new,

This cafe wasn't new,

The place and the table we were sitting weren't new,

Her name in the table, which I wrote with help of my fingernails wasn't new, and,

The taste of coffee wasn't new,

They all were old, just like our relation....

Sipping on coffee she started saying,

" I was trying to tell you something since a while but I didn't know where to start from. Mmmmm. I think this taste of coffee will now be alienated."

I said," Why? Are you going other city for job?"

"Not job actually... Do you think I can find same taste of coffee in Belgium?"

I was shocked. "Belgium? Why? How? What are you trying to say?"

"I should have told you earlier, but I didn't have guts. There's someone special of mine there in Belgium. He said he'll come in January for me. Everyone knew. It was just you left........"

The turbulences around changed to void. Her and mine name written on table became blurry. The coffee which I always admired became tasteless. I started remembering my past.

That past,

When we were always eager to meet each other.

I remembered the bus stop where she used to wait for me. I remembered texts she sent me. I remembered those sleepless nights.....

"What's wrong? Aren't we leaving? It's already 7' . Let's go! I've already paid for the coffee." I regained my senses with her words.

There nights aren't like before,

I wake up with her messages,

Her texts scare me nowadays.

Maybe she liked spending her free time with me. Maybe I was wrong ...

Dreaming of being with her just because she wanted to meet me,

Wishing her to be mine just because she wanted to meet me.

Maybe I was wrong... Getting lost in her sweet words with each sip of coffee

That bus stop feels incomplete these days,

Anyone using mobile phone feels like her. There's no one to get angry over me even if I get an hour late. The coffee in the cafe feels tasteless....

These days, I just smoke her memories to make that tasteless coffee sweet again. And with each puff of smoke I try to blow away her memories.

Time is same, location is same, I am same,

Only difference,

Yesterday,

She, me and coffee

And today,

Her memories, me and coffee..

Feb 08 2020

Part 2 : Void 2

This was first published in Leptons as Audio story. Click here to check out