Anniversary

One year has passed. Exactly. A few minutes more, to be precise. But the events of this day, that year would be etched in his life forever.

Not that he did not know what he was doing. Not that he did not know what results to expect. But then, she was such an unpredictable girl. So, having been the best of friends for quite a few years, when he decided to propose to her (again, as he had done so in veiled words some time back, only to get a veiled refusal), he hoped to succeed but expected to fail.

Why, then, was he still unable to get over her? Why would hers be the first name to come to his mind, when he was troubled by something he could not talk to anyone else about? And why, indeed why, was it that he was still not sure that what he felt for her was what they call love???

The sudden feeling of heat on his fingers told him that the cigarette between his fingers had burnt through the filter and was threatening his skin, but surprisingly it was with a sort of wishfulness that he stubbed it into the ash tray. The ash tray he had purchased from Happily Unmarried. Was he happily unmarried?? He did not know.

The phone rang. He did not know why, but somehow he hoped it was her. He hoped that like him, she also remembered that it was one year and a few minutes since they formally broke their friendship. And he hoped that she had had second thoughts.

He picked up the phone. The feminine voice from the other end said, "Sir, I am calling from Vodafone...". He disconnected the call and picked up another cigarette, as he got up to fill his glass with another large of Johnny Walker Red Label.