I have always admired the twinkle in your eyes and the smile on your lips. It has been highly contagious so far. I remember saying that you have sparkling button eyes and forwarded you the picture of a rat with bright, black eyes. You made a face. I assumed that only I thought that your eyes were beautiful.
That day, when I stood before you with an apologetic face, I saw your stiff self—a straight face that no longer held that smile, no longer emanated the brightness of the day and the twinkle of a starry night. I was taken aback by seeing this side of yours and I wondered whether it was really necessary for you to meet me and drop that smile in arrogance or ignorance—I may never know which.
Today, you weren't as stiff but I know you didn't want to meet me. You could have delayed taking your belongings back, but you know how much I was insisting on it. There were taking a lot of space in my cramped room and they just lay there waiting to turn into an excuse for me to see you smile again.
So, I waited for the time to run right, and when you showed up I saw nothing but the same old rigid you. I thought I did see your lips curve for a split-second when I gave you the baby pine cone and the most beautiful piece of pebble I have ever found. When you looked up I could see you wanted to escape. So you offered me the sweet lying in your bag as an immediate return gesture to unburden yourself and rode off.
I turned before I could see you go as I admired the sweet you gave me instead of the smile that I knew you would never flash again.
I think recovery is a slow process. I agree I went overboard with my statements out of anger, but now I feel that you are going overboard with your unapologetic indifference. I will accept that and keep in touch until the time heals us both.
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