CONNECTION

It was the silent withering that took me back to the ICU bed, of how hopeful I was when your vitals were intact, while the machine still displayed a zigzag line.

Down the lane, there is a house; small; but big enough for two people in their late sixties. Decayed in love of their children, they hold hands to see each other. The streetlight colors their porch; ochre in sepia. Perhaps the perfect colour that fades like the roses they found in each other’s diaries.

Third, fourth, fifth attempt! It was still asking me the same question! Forgot password?? No way!! Either Zuckerberg had developed FB to show this for calling his creation a dumbass or it was me who was carefully typing wrong passwords!Either of the thoughts now seemed dwarfing before my third terrible hunch.