HIM AND HIS.
It was a very still day. It has always been still. It was all ironical, really. How the world moved and how lives were still stagnant. There was something about the breeze that day. It hit Naarah hard on the face - like a constant reminder of her monotony.
There were a lot of thoughts on her mind. Nothing changes, she thought to herself. You crawl out and crawl back in. You exist and be. And here she was, brooding.
But there was something in the air that day, something that erected an urge inside her to pause the brooding and begin searching. Began searching for something.
Naarah looked at her phone and looked at HIM. Angus. Staring back at her from that Social Media App. He looked alright. He didn't immediately draw her. But he had a certain decency about himself. She gave him a thought, a stare, a choice, a chance. He was worth saying a hi to. She did. He responded. Or was it the other way round? She didn't care. She didn't question it. She wanted to be more than herself to anyone who was willing to take the love she had to offer. She felt so much beauty inside her all the time, but no one to surrender to.
Angus seemed free and refreshing. He said - "Hello, cutestuff." She smiled. It was as refreshing as it could get. As virgin as it could be.
Naarah knew men. She knew what moves them. And what makes them. The merciless touches, the violent words, the condescending laughs and the bland minds. She didn't trust them and she didn't have to.They were way too shallow for her beauty. Way too transparent.
"I like your taste in Indian wear." - Angus wrote again. She sighed. Compliments have a tendency to make you feel good, no matter where they come from. She felt like she had been noticed. In a world full of desires, she had been seen.
She responded. She realized that she wanted to. A conversation began. It was a long one, that's for sure. They talked for a long time. Words were very carefully but callously thrown, shared. Words with meanings that will not leave her mind for a long time. He complimented, she swallowed them all. He asked her questions, and she answered - all too much. She could see that Angus was beginning to treat her differently. She hadn't been treated that way too often. Naarah remembered how her last love told her she was sad too often, and felt too much. She decided to close her heart to him. But Angus. Every word that came out of her mind, he made subtle love to it. He caressed her mind like one caresses an infant. A delicate infant. She spoke her mind and he was there to listen. She was the breeze, he was the leaf. He danced with her. He joyously embraced her soul. Naarah realized how fast and how effortlessly she was falling into this endless pit of entangled words that could never exist beyond that moment. Angus had stripped her naked. Angus was knocking at her soul. And it was all momentary.
Naarah fell in love way too fast and way too carelessly. She fell in love with the idea of him - inaccessible yet ubiquitous. He was all around her.
Angus seemed to be a man that chased freedom, yet lived in a free world. He looked at things from a very different perspective, and he chose to look at HER. Angus was not a slave to the world, like most people are. His life seemed fast, but not hasty. He either kissed everything he felt, or made it a point to not feel at all. There were just two ways to everything for him - the mask or the face. Naarah was attracted to that idea in an instant. He pushed her to write, express. Naarah knew how to do it and where to do it. She had just killed that desire a long time ago, until Angus came along. "Why don't you write!" - He exclaimed. She knew at that instant that she wanted to. It was a long lost hobby, and she decided to resign to his demand the next day.
Angus was there. Angus had been there. He had been there since a few hours ago, but it all fit too well. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Angus and Naarah. She wrote, she danced on the white sheet of paper, she laughed, she dazzled. She was a naked beauty.
The evening ensued. Angus felt languorous. It was all an irony. She flew, and he surrendered. Naarah was his. Since the moment he had read her, breathed on her neck. He gave himself up to her and she bowed to him. Together, they entered a world of surreal beauty and purity. A world that none can see but feel. An experience that is closer to birth and death together. An idea, that bound them together, and neither could free themselves from each other. They had never met, yet they made love inside that surrealism. She couldn't ever unfeel HIM even if she wanted to. She was etched on the edge of HIS world forever. HIM and HIS - possessed.
