Standing in front of a mirror, he looks at his reflection. His dark skin had turned pale, except for around the eyes. All the sleepless nights and binge drinking sessions showed he was not so O.K after all. He stood there, staring at what looked like a spitting image of the most ragged piece of work by a man who calls himself an artiste. Naked, he looks at his own reflection. Nothing. The smile that adorned his face is gone. His sister said once his eyes were different. How they kept roaming around. They have lost their shine as well. There is nothing in them anymore. He sighs and yells,

"Ma*****od"... "Bh****od", hurling those abuses at the reflection he was now used to see everyday. And suddenly he smiles.

Wearing his clothes, he gets ready to hit the bed. But stops and looks at the neatly made sheets. He sits next to the pillow and runs his hand over her head... wipes the last drops of water that was left by the wash and makes sure she is tucked in the sheet nicely. He kisses her forehead and a tear slips his eye. It falls... unobstructed on the white pillow case. He walks over to the window and steadies himself. And as he looks over his shoulder, he sees what really is. She is not there. She never was.

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We all have a box that we keep so close to us. A box of memoirs and memories. Of that which was and that which is. The first greeting that read, "I love you sooooooo much", or the last that said,"I would be incomplete without you." Those letters someone wrote, the poems which were your bible, the earing that fell off while she swirled around in your arms, the hair that was stuck in your watch while ran your hand through her hair.......

His box is now empty. He emptied it. And threw away the box. Long ago. When he realized the letters written were mere pages, poems were just lines, that earing was just a piece of metal, not for you, but the person whom you carried in your arms. When he realized that the promises that were made to him were just words, and nothing more.

"They were true at that time", she had said. How shallow people get, he thought. 'At that time'. Weren't you the one who said we will be together till the end of time? Ohh, it was true at that TIME.

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Yet, he stands now at his window, looking at her sleeping so peacefully. She was never there, she might never be. But he saw her there. He knew she was there. And so he sat by the bed, looking at her. A mere white sheet, one would say. And he laughed at the thought.

He knew she was somewhere close. And he was happy with that thought. In his mind he knew someone was cursing him for what he had done, and he smiled every time he felt the curses. For every curse meant for him had a prayer in it for her. And next night, he gets ready for some more.. as he stands in front of the mirror and he yells,

"Ma*****od"... "Bh****od", and he smiles.