Saturday, 28 May 2016

Naive

His knuckles were white from gripping the seat too long.
It was Mid-December. The rain splattering against the window shielded his face from prying eyes outside the minibus.
And he waited for her.
The bus rumbled with activity. A group of girls, "friends" she called them, talked about her when she wasn't around. She, totally ignorant to the fact that she was being back-stabbed, smiled the innocent smile that complimented her chubby face when she was with them. Her laughter was loud, contagious. They ridiculed her immaturity. She never bothered. Either that, or she was genuinely blind and didn't noticed the "really matured" vixen among unsuspecting sheep.
He didn't know her name though.
He wanted to. Sometimes this girl came in his dreams. Just the smile. Or the different varieties of her smile.
How can a person smile in so many different ways without intention?
The genuinely happy smile. The goofy grin. The slow shy smile that spread from one corner of her face to the other accompanied by a slight blush. The pig snort. The sad thoughts. He had seen it all.
Yet he didn't know her name.
How he wished it was a different story then.
How he wished he could be the reason behind her smile.
A year and six months later, after getting his wish granted an infinite times, the comparisons arose.
The other girl smiled better.
The other girl laughed modestly.
The other girl had a unique smile.
And he chose her over the girl with the million smiles.
He chose simplicity over wilderness.
The girl never knew what went wrong.
He left without a word.
She blamed herself. Blamed her smile.
Swore never to smile again.
And kept her vow she did.
.
-The Violet Woman
Lilliput #1
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