Scratching of the pen sounded rhythmic to her ears as if creating its own melody with each and every monotonous stroke. The two curves that created a tiny heart were etched deeply into the page with only a few strands from its predesigned course. Her delicate fingers skilfully guided it as if familiar with the pattern. Her hands grew weary with the repetition of the sketch.
The clock showed just a few minutes past to two o' clock at night. But it did nothing to subdue her persistent ritual. The empty sketch of the heart was not a time pass ,but a representation of the loneliness that haunted her. She willed to finally color the heart in..but was unable to lie to herself even in such feeble portrayal of her life.
She laid on her back, watching the unchanging ceiling once again. The spinning fan casting illuminating shadows around the room from the unusually bright moon. The window panes were once again left open as if they offered her some kind of escape to rest of the world and even outside her own mind. She rolled to her side holding her hands together past the pillow and spoke to an unseen person. Coming to terms with her inability to sleep, she reached to her bedside table, hesitating before flicking the light switch on. Next to it sat a notebook. She picked up the notebook. Grabbing the pen attached to it, she began to write...
" How is it making my life miserable day by day. I am left all alone and empty..dying in this mess. Also stings my own heart. I am left here in this dark place, holding on his promise and hoping that one day he'll be back and break all the shackles of pain,despair and sadness..that have coiled around me. A long time ago, i felt love. I lived because of it..but now i am dying because of it. No matter how hard i try, i know he'll never be the same again. I'll fall, broken and shattered into a million pieces. I need a hand to put me together and hold me forever. May be it'll only happen in my dreams...my fantasy. I am like a fallen angel left with no hope. A frozen heart that can only be melted by him. The love i felt earlier is gone with the wind.
I really don't know if he is my true love..or he is just a mistake, in future i would regret...."
Once again she lay awake, haunted by those memories. The familiar notebook sits on her lap and the sketches of heart lying all around her. Accepting the fact that she is again unable to sleep, she gives up tossing the notebook and takes his picture in her hand. A new rhythm helps her both to sleep and enjoy staying awake. Left on the bedside table in darkness, is the same notebook with just one realization scribbled on it.....!!!
