Between Goodnight and Good morning, we met.
It wasn’t real. And it wasn’t unreal.
It was as vague as it was vivid.
Vague to the point that I don’t remember why we met, where we met.
Vivid because I can paint the colour of the light that made his face shine. The glimmering eyes. The impish grin. The distinct voice. The witty words. The warmth of his presence. The impeccability of the moment.
I don’t remember anything else, yet there’s a lot which cannot be forgotten.
This figment resides right inside me. I try to summon the moment to know what happened after that, but there is nothing. It was one moment and it’s gone.
When Good morning hit me, I blinked my eyes as I came back from that place, that one moment. And when realisation struck, how much I wished to go back, to the only place where we could be. A place I wished wasn’t unreal.
I wondered, how we run errands out there, drawing our paths, at least trying to tread on the drawn out paths. And yet we cannot know where we go between Goodnight and Good morning?
Thanks for reading☺