Dust

This time things had gone too far and I knew there was no way out. No other route but the one that led outside and away. Away, away, away.
I left the letter on the sideboard table. And as an afterthought, the brass keys. There would not be much need of those now.

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It had been three years ago on some unbearable hot monsoon afternoon that he had first stumbled into my stuffy apartment and my life. And after that we were constantly moving. Running, almost. From one strange place to another. Roller-coasters, media houses, dreams, hotels, highways, in and out, on and on. You would have thought we'd be exhausted. I still don't understand why we weren't. It was--something.

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I know its best to let sleeping dogs lie. But i personify the curiosity that killed some poor cat. Even though I don't like cats all that much.

I don't like answering questions either. I probably ask a lot. I can't help it. I have an inherent need to know.

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The first time, i let it pass. The second time, i cried. The third, and everytime after that, i hit back. Lashed out furiously. I suppose things changed, even improved. And i wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing.

It's a crazy world we live in, Mac had said once, quite gone.

So who was crazy really? Or maybe the question is--who was crazier?

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We were both unconventional people. That was something given and accepted. There was just that little matter. The quiggly feeling, nagging your brain when you least expect.
One just has to deal with it i suppose. Or ignore it till it went? Or even if it didnt?

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It was all okay when we were drunk and stupid and forgot everything and made love and stories. But afterwards, i lay awake to the regular sound of breathing. His breathing, which i held my own to catch.
It must be a mad sort of love, that. Which makes you lie awake so that the other person does not die on you when you are sleeping.
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I cannot drive faster than my mind thinks. Its just difficult when someone says 'no'. I know. I say it a great deal. what goes round, will come around. Its all cyclical. Water vapour, rain, industrial waste, the ebb and flow of tides, tears, laughter, everything.
It all comes back to you.

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I'm prepared for most emergencies. My first-aid shelf is an entire wall closet. Cuts, burns, bruises, slips, pricks, all.
And I know we will meet again, I see it as clearly as i see my reflection in the rear view. It is an endless chase. A quest. Who goes faster. After a while you forget who is chasing who.
And yet, we pursue. We race. Next time I will prepare even better. And run even faster.

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All the world seemed to be running, ocassionally flashing through windows. Only glances, only glimpses, only glimmer.

And so we run. We run.

PS: I wrote this for 'creative writing' (and it was actually corrected by a poor unsuspecting prof)!! Needless to say, it was atrocious and completed in all of 10 minutes. N said it reminded her of Gangster.

Oh, i put it up anyhow. Its a little mad. And well, i feel like that sometimes.