March 31

It was only early afternoon and she was already drinking from her second bottle of vodka. She had her heart broken for the umpteenth time, in fact, she didn’t bother herself anymore with the count.

He was unstable like the surface of the ocean that constantly danced to the mad whistles of the wind. Nevertheless, she liked him for some unknown reason and so she waited for him. She always did like a locked door that waits to be opened. But someday that might change. She would have found the reason and worked a way around it or she would have simply given up. Something might happen and she might turn away and never look back. Thinking of that least probable day now did not make much sense to her in her drunken state, but at least it gave her hope. One of the two things might happen—he may come back or she might walk away—at least in that sense, the latter would be constant. Or maybe not!

Even in her befuddled state of mind, she was completely aware that life was bountiful and full of surprises, and that she didn’t want to be tied down by the weight of his absence. How does a bird not spread her wings and take flight? She wasn’t caged neither were her wings clipped; she was just hopelessly in love. As for him, he danced but she wasn’t the wind. And all she did was wait, but with a little more patience and a bottle of vodka.


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