Black & White
Posted June 30, 2009on:
It was the world’s worst break-up. After being a couple for almost seven years, they didn’t know what to do without the other. It was difficult to forget all those good times, and they both did lots of things to try and forget – the guy, for instance, drank cold milk with glucose all night and played World of Warcraft and the girl, she competed with herself in a mind numbing contest of ‘Who can cut an Onion into the smallest of pieces?’ The thrill of the game is not in the cutting itself, it’s the measuring. It would suffice to say that she kept herself occupied.
Traffic on Wednesday mornings was the worst. Indeed, one mother dropping off her son in school had recounted the tale ‘Rabbit and the tortoise’ so many times during the journey that the kid now saw hundreds of rabbits and tortoises rushing toward him. A John Nash in making, one would say. The frequent traffic signals made the journey even more uncomfortable. It was at one of these traffic signals that the unexpected happened. The estranged lovers, each holding a bag, found themselves on opposite sides of the zebra crossing waiting for the red light.
‘Oh, it’s her. Damn, I didn’t want this happening!’ thought he, to himself.
‘Oh, it’s him. Damn!’
No point mentioning that she was thinking to herself too.
‘Poor thing, she looks so emaciated. Has she not been eating?’
‘Whatever happened to his beautiful wavy hair? Is he not taking care of himself?’
‘Has she been crying? Red eyes. Has she been crying?!’ he thought, clearly ignorant of a certain game with Onions.
‘Oh, his eyes are so droopy and red. Has he not been sleeping?’
‘She’s wearing my favorite T-shirt! She looks so good, help me God!’
‘Ah, the watch I gave him for our 5th anniversary…’
‘I can almost smell her lavender perfume here…’
‘God, he looks so handsome. Why did we even break up!?’
‘The tender touch of her long fingers…’
‘How I loved the feel of his stubble on my face…’
‘Ah, she’s wearing the brooch I got her from the Andaman Islands’
‘He still uses that pen I got him from Amsterdam?’
‘God, the way she cooks chicken. I have never tasted chicken like that elsewhere!’
‘How I miss the foot massage he gives!’
‘We must definitely try and work things out’ thought the both of them, almost simultaneously.
She lifted her face up a bit and smiled a little. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and smiled back. She saw him take his hand out of the pocket and thinking he was about to wave, she waved. Not noticing that, his hand went straight to his nose.
‘That irritating habit of his! How many times do I tell him not to pick his nose in public!?’
‘Er, why is she glaring at me like that!? She glares for every damn thing I do!’
‘Stupid obscene habit!’ she thought, as a strand of hair fell across her face.
‘There she goes again, chewing vigorously on her hair. How hard is it to not do that?’ and turned his face away.
‘Oh, now he’s ogling at other girls. The dirty pervert!’, as he turned his face back.
‘Ah, how can I forget the impatient foot tapping? As if she were a tap dancer…’
‘That fidgety creep! Why can’t he keep his hands to himself? He just has to scratch and touch everything. Can’t he stand quiet for a moment?’
‘Oh, now she’s mad with me. She’s gnashing her jaws and biting her teeth. Can’t she stay still without judging others for a moment?’
‘How did I ever end up with such an irritating bloke?’
‘How did I ever end up with such a high-handed wench?’
The traffic light turned red and the pedestrians poured onto the zebra crossing. They went past each other without as much as a nod.