Here we are, seated next to each other. That app was not lying, when it said you were just a mile away. It helped that I was at that supermarket near your street.
I was buying groceries that my mom had asked me to.
Oh, my mother! Never mind, I will tell her that there was a long line at the billing counter… She might get worried. Maybe I’ll just leave her a text.
“Going to meet a friend, will be late”
You are my friend, right? I suppose not. We do not know each other and barely have any intentions of changing that.
I reach closer to you, in sync, our eyes closing and our lips parting. There is no more talking. Was there any to begin with?
We leave the marks of our fingers and mouths on each others’ skin, mapping the moment we have shared. The marks would take a lot of explaining to do back home, I will figure something out.
We’re done and out of breath. The hormonal rush that our bodies had created is starting to wear off.
Wait, you have brown hair. I’m just noticing that.
I’m tired, but I have to leave and I know you would want the same.
That is what I love about this relationship: we don’t fake it… We don’t pretend to like each other, not anymore than we actually do.
I say goodbye and leave.
After reaching home, I send you a text.
”Had a nice time tonight, thanks :)”
.
.
.
Notes:
- Mujeebur Rahman read this piece at Orinam’s Quilt gathering on Sept 29, 2019 at Semmozhi Poonga in Chennai. To read other articles from his ‘Stories of Intimacy’ series, visit his Facebook page.
- Cell phone image adapted from Santeri Viinamäki’s original on Wikimedia Commons, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
- Image below by the author.
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