(Excerpted from a fictional piece)
We had just finished a wrap on some fabulous snaps of yours. They were ultimately delicious (hmmm....unusual adjective you say!!). You had, appreciated the capture, but then had surreptitiously responded with an older photo of yours which you added was one of your favorites.
Looking at it, I had asked, "Who clicked this?" and you replied playfully, "You really don't want to know, do you?".
I was always ok with "not knowing what I don't need to know", that was in a nutshell. "This photo is nice. Reminds me of Van Gogh."
You had very felt flattered and said, "Hmm.....Nice. I am that picturesque, huh?"
Grinning, almost sardonically. Had paused and asked, "You want my Masti answer or the truth?"
Something tripped you. Almost immediately, you gave me that sharp look and said, "Sometimes Tail, I grow very tired of your playful words and tricks. You can almost never compliment me, ever. You either think I am growing old, or you see my wrinkles, or you see the crinkle of my nose. For once, I thought you were praising me....but come on, hit me baby one more time."
I kind of averted disaster and told you that looked like an avant garde impressionist poster. I blatantly lied that day. Through my eyes. They bled blue that day.
Do you know what I really meant that day? That photo, I still have it, kind and bright with me. The image is a strange image. Whoever clicked it, not sure how they were related to you. In that image you look definitely repressed and drowned in a sad song. My first reaction seeing that image was of immense tenderness and a flood of emotions for you. That feeling you have when someone close to you is "out of form". The second thought was what I remembered were supposedly Van Gogh's last words, "The sadness will last forever."
Was I prophetic? How I wish I could back flip.
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