Fiction | 198 Words
I saw him on my wedding day, wearing a black tuxedo with a matching bow tie and a strange kind of smile caressing his face. His thick beard had grown beyond his handsome limit, unlike old times and there was an invisible energy in him guiding him through the night, making him just like anybody else. His body would sway to the rhythmic rise and fall of beats and sometimes just a little bit of pause to engulf as much as he could, the cold night air.
Sitting beside my fiancé, I stared at him bit too long, only to notice him staring back with a nostalgic melancholy which we, the only two people in this hall could relate to. We could feel the moment of bonding slipping by, engulfed by this evil time. Our eyes would not flicker, not even move, but we knew it was our night, the one final night where we can communicate again silently, just like old times. A year and a half back, I thought. We had erased each other from our lives, yet in this cold night, we can feel the strings taut again, ready to snap off one last time.
Copyright Jumbled Letters 2018.