Love Short Story – The Napkin
Photo credit: hotblack from morguefile.com
Huge. A huge room with the capacity to accommodate copious amount of light, stood in dim light, breathing its 25th year. It was dim but there was more life in the room than the outside world. Less furniture, many memories. A window, latched tight. A couch, broken. A book rack, full. A study chair, still sturdy. A cigar ashtray, smoking. A carpet, still warm. A balcony, the only thing alive. A table, just standing and Him. They were all a part of this room and had been living here together.
Hope. Hope it happens, just for another day. He sat on his study chair thinking if she will come to the bar tonight. Lost in his thoughts, he pulled himself out of his chair and walked towards the book rack at one end of the room. He slid open the first chest/drawer on the book rack to pull out an old lifeless napkin. He opened it, one more time, with the promise of it being the last time, very carefully to read the words on that napkin. The napkin hugged some scribbling’s tightly making it difficult for him to open it with ease, just like every time. He managed to open the flaps of the napkin and slowly tiled his head to read the word ‘love’ written in red with a small heart, in read. A wave of happiness ran through his entire body and he was pulled into the memory of the day he got this napkin.
That night, he was dressed in an expensive black suit and she looked like a shining diamond in a yellow dress flowing down from her shoulders to ankle. He had patiently waited for her to arrive at the hotel. They were meeting after a long time, but for him it was never old and gone. It was a thing of today, always. The last time they crossed ways was when he was 22 and young she was 21 and beautiful. For him, even today, at 35 she was the most beautiful women.
“She isn’t actually one of those flawless beauties but there was a touch of unique aura that made her presence very soothing. There is something. Don’t know what that is.” His own voice echoed in his head as he told this to one of his closest friends in college.
That night, as she walked down the lobby of the hotel, she looked just the same and it was a kid’s game to recognize her. He walked towards her and warmly greeted her and her husband, his best friend. They all had proceeded for dinner. It was a wonderful evening. An elaborate dinner with exotic wine. There was laughter and chatting everywhere. Waiters moving around to treat their guests with their best service.
The recollection of that night is so fresh that even after so many years of that dinner night, he stood here in his room, in his memory recreating every noise, every smell, every laughter that made up that night.
He started walking towards the study chair again, pressing the napkin carefully in his palms. He was pampering it like a mother inducing a sick-child to go off to sleep. Touching it, soothing it was as close as feeling her touch on the napkin.
That night, after the dinner was over, all of them had walked to the lobby together. She had excused herself for a while and he stood there conversing with her husband. He was a sober man with a sharp attitude and a perfect match for her. She reappeared in the conversation with a smile. A forced one, he had thought. They started walking towards the main door of the hotel. His best friend had thanked him for being a perfect host and congratulated him on the success of his Hotel. He saw them off at the lobby.
Just before leaving, She had dropped this napkin as much purposefully as much as it was pretended to be mistakenly. With ease and chivalry he picked it up, smilingly said, ‘don’t worry, it’s taken care of’ and unconsciously put the napkin in his pocket.
When she had left, he started walking towards the room where he presently stood. A room on the 7th floor of his hotel, his personal space. From the balcony he saw her walk away in his memory of that night, just like he had seen her walk away after college. He had always felt love for her but had never found a way to express. There was a connection, a feeling that was mutual and it was very strong just not expressed in words. He thought and felt words were never needed. There was as much care and respect as much there was love – an undefined feeling.
He stood there in the balcony, smiling, that day and today. Years had passed but it seemed like yesterday. He said loudly, ‘Whoever says, time changes and flies’ was either drunk or never loved‘, and giggled. He is 55, happily in love and she is 54, happily married.
The words on the napkin were –
“Love is never found, it is felt, now and forever. I have felt it for you and will continue to do so, forever.”
(Wish there were words that could express feelings, the Napkin is a mode)
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