The flashlight on his phone penetrated through the dark room (now bright) ominously spread in front of him. On opening the door to the terrace, he was hit by a chill blow of January wind while he struggled to stay warm under the woolen sweater he wore. After coming to contact with the light emanating from the full moon, he switched the lamp off—he looked squarely above his head, saw the moon shining full in its splendour. And the moon took him back to her.

‘Hey, take a look at the moon’ were the very words he had texted her exactly a year ago. 

And, his girl, as always, had him intrigued by her reply. Send me a picture of yours so that I can look at MY moon.

                                                                                      ***

He had always been a stargazer. His wish to look at the twinkling stars while lying beside the love of his life only remained a wish. Tonight, the stars twinkled all over the sky, but he didn’t feel a tinge of excitement. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the most striking star of his life. The phone on his pocket hummed an Arctic Monkey rhythm—violent, too violent, for a silent January night. When his sweater could no longer repel the cold winter wind he rushed 

downstairs to his room. The four walls made him feel empty—none of the fancy things the room boasted fascinated him. 

He sat on a plush chair and looked at the piece of paper lying on the table. He couldn’t decline the feeling of wanting to read the letter over and over again. It wasn’t only because she wrote it; when he read it, he felt too lucky—and too sad at the same time—for being loved by the most awesome girl who ever lived. The paper, even after a year, still smelled of the lavender perfume she used to wear—To the only boy who has my heart and is a sweet lullaby of love!

Do you know why I love you? Because, you take me to a whole new level of ecstasy and nobody else has that magic over me but you. Because, you can look at me and love me with just your eyes. Because, nobody but you have that power of making me warm without even touching me. Do you know that your eyes tell me stories about love which your lips don’t? When you look at me and your lips stretch into a smile my heart skips a beat and I exactly know why. I like how our hands fit. I love how our lips meet and kiss the craziest kisses. I need you to make me feel alright. I can never be enough for myself. Do you know why? Because, you are mine and I am yours—till the end of time. Without your part my story never completes and baby you are the best part of it.

On completing the letter, he frowned. He was angry at her because she left him here alone with so many people he didn’t care about. He grabbed a pen and on the same letter she wrote to him, he started scribbling—People say I’ve stopped smiling. They don’t understand; do they, baby? How can I manage to smile without you by my side when you were the sole reason behind it? They say I’ve stopped living my life. When that one person you’ve loved all the time doesn’t breathe the same air you breathe they don’t understand how unjust life can be for your heart beats but the person for whom it does, isn’t around anymore. When I walk the dusty roads I wish you’d appear by my side to slide your hands onto mine. Don’t you see the couples walking hand in hand on the road make me jealous of what we used to have and now we don’t? When I have to travel, instead of the fat man beside me I wish you were there to fit your head beautifully on my shoulder. Life indeed isn’t only about happiness. However happy you are sadness surrounds you once in a while and you cannot do anything about it but stay at a corner and look at the world outside your window and wonder how many people are going through the same thing you’re going through right now.

He let out a long sigh. And, continued.

Do you realise that I’m angry at you for breaking the promise of watching the stars together and leaving me alone here on this non-starry world while you sit among the stars up there and twinkle all night? How do I look from up there, baby? Do you look at me? Don’t you feel like coming down to me because I have that constant feeling of coming up to you and look at the world below us. Now, who will put up with my never-ending talks about life? What tales of ours will I tell our children since you went away without bearing me any? I’m just so annoyed on how I will never get to count the age lines time would have drawn on your cheeks when we would have been growing old together. I hate it when everything I do, anywhere I go, reminds me of you; it reminds me of us. Didn’t you remember my face when you chose to strangle yourself to death? Didn’t this beautiful, magical thing you said we had refrain you from tying the rope around your neck? When I’ll meet you up there hundreds of questions on my head will seek for your answers. You won’t run away from them again, will you? I might never forgive you for not putting aside your ego and instead coming to me with things that were troubling you. Surely I could bear your presence until you answer my questions. 

And, the most important one would be: why, love?