(Excerpted from a larger piece of fiction)
I am too old to feel or experience a heartbreak, I told myself. When you have lived a life, you also become numb to its everyday. You breathe, you dance, you shmooze and you continue with your narrative jungle.
That winter day though, I felt the "stab and burn". It felt alien. As if, a bug had caught up with you, despite being inoculated. All I remember, I worked through straight for a good 10 hrs maybe. Drank 11 cups of coffee. My fingers trembled with faux Parkinsons. In retro silence with (Bob) Dylan buzzing in the room. On a repeat.
Years later, Dylan is now my motif for blues. I mean literal "blues". If I am playing Dylan, it's a tinted day.
How did you manage that day, Spin? I really wonder. If you ever shared with me - I have forgotten. My mind has blanked out so much about you. You are like my cancer. Never here, never there.
Why am I revisiting those times again, then? After a point - I realised I could talk about you, without the stigma of my arrythmia. Yes, I blame you totally for it (I am smiling as I say that!!). This brazen heart beats to a jazzy beat. Chaos.
Today, do I still remember those blues? So very often. You are my blue sky. Remember? I sky you (thanks to Frida!!).
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