In the memory of you

I’ve been going through a lot of things lately which forced my mind to come to an abrupt halt. All the more reason why I haven’t written anything lately. This excerpt is something I forced myself to write last night.

---

Nobody likes Spring with allergies and pollen and she hated it, despised the very word since she was seven. The time when her mother used to get pollen allergies and cried about her father not being a loyal man. He was still a hero to her daughter, a cherry-faced, brown eyes little pumpkin of his. All of this and yet she was here on top of a Ferris wheel, alone on a Spring evening. Her mini bag was sitting beside her, the place which once belonged to him. This entire abandoned park was their go-to place whenever either one of them had a bad day.
“I like quiet, stranded places,” she said to him once while sitting at the exact same spot, watching the sun go down, licking her ice cream. He was looking at her instead as if the only beautiful thing there was her face and only her face alone. “They’re so neglected and forsaken as if there lies nothing but emptiness within them.”
“Like my heart” he whispered. She heard him but pretended to be oblivious.

A year changes many things, people always think they have time but they don’t. He wished he would’ve told her what was in his heart earlier, that a man like him do not know how to fall in love. Men like him are raised to be robust and emotionless with impassiveness running in their veins. They do not know how to show care, how to love, how to express, men like him are everything opposite of her. She, being a girl with passion and kindness in her eyes, so full of emotions and care, and him a stone-cold man, how can someone not fall in love with her? And yet, he couldn’t, despite it all, he couldn’t.

He was driving on the 308th road when he passed through the Ramadan Jumma Mosque, which reminded him of her. She always loved the idea of Mosques, Temples, Churches, all the holy sacred places in every religion. The very notion of searching God and peace within those buildings amazed her. He never understood her, how mysterious she was, every aspect of dark academia was in her soul and that is what attracted him towards her. She would ask to smoke cigarettes with him, but he wouldn’t let her, except at times when he would look into her eyes and see nothing but a dead version of her.

She took out a pack of Marlboro with daisies within and started to smoke while watching the sun go down. On days when the thought of him start to devour her soul from inside, she would come up here and smoke a couple of cigarettes in the memory of him and everything he was to her. When the Maghrib prayers were calling, she took out her journal and wrote one line on it,

“Never will I ever choose the company of a man over my own.”