The colors were not an imagination anymore, they were all around-brown, purple, red. The heels clicked their way, and in spite of all the chatter there was a silence she found. The silence she was starving for, a kind of calm to define which she couldn’t put in words.

Friends-she mused over the word as she watched familiar yet different expressions on his face. The laugh, the aura, the style, the chivalry-all was intact yet things had changed, the world had changed, she had changed or was trying to. For good or bad, was the question she thought she heard.

Couldn’t we talk, she thought of asking him-talk about all that I’ve been through, about times I really need you, about the bitter facts of today, about you and me, when we don’t remain us anymore.

And there were things she missed-small-stupid-silly-funny-but at the same time there was nothing better than the fact that they could still share a laugh, or coffee at times…

‘And it’s satisfying, well beyond it, the realization of the fact that yes; there -was-is- a man who loved you. It is a mean thing to do, to compare the part of love you’ve got with other things in the world or love itself-to weigh it-it won’t be a good choice, I feel’…she wrote down in her diary…

The shade of the evening got darker, the silence stronger and the taste of the coffee was wearing off. She combed her hair into a bun and wished she had let them grow.