What do I think of when I think of you?
I think of the way you looked the last time I saw you. You had your face turned up to the sun, and the rays crept stealthily through your hair, making it a tangled mass of golden and brown. You glanced my way for a second and I searched your eyes for a glimmer of that searing feeling. It was a long second. I remember wanting to say something, wanting to reach out and place my hand on yours. Instead, I spent that day writing farewells in books with pink hearts on their covers, sobbing on shoulders, kissing the wall where we used to retreat to during recess- all of that. An all girls’ school carries within its walls a lot of love, unconditional support, bitchiness, judgement, and some ideas set in stone about how certain things ought to be.
Akriti and Sue are living in New York, did you know? They got married. They’re adopting a girl from Tamil Nadu.
I saw your name on a mutual friend’s list the other day. I bit my lip and fiddled with the mouse for a bit. You’re still beautiful. You still have a mole on your shoulder blade. You still cock your head to one side when you smile for the camera. You’re married. To someone called Aman.
I hope you’re happy. I hope you found what you were looking for. I hope-