Sunday, April 15, 2007

She had been running... running for 35 years now.
Not from life, not from lies, not from lestat but from love.

The little grasshopper was tired.

The pinnacle of physics had been achieved, her academic orbit was at its apogee. Life was good.

The little coffee house across the road beckoned, a place where she had first met "him".
Twas chance, they were forced to share a table for the want of space. It felt right... he felt right... two hours passed by in a blink of an eye. He gave her his number, she promised shed call. That was 10 years ago. She was too scared and the scrap was soon lost to the ravages of time.

She entered letting the inviting aroma of arabica guide her. As her eyes soon grew accustomed to the dimly lit room her gaze wandered. There he stood...

This story couldve had a happy ending, all she had to do was call out to him.

She couldnt, and he left soon after. The little grasshopper was all alone....



Anonymous said...

This is a compliment for sure.
But i'm not sure about the life span of a grasshopper...35 years? hmm.

clueless comrades said...

The little grasshopper im talkin abt will probably live on for ages...

Found in the lush green environs of himachal..


shruti said...

maybe the little grasshooper was looking for more than "just right". maybe she was looking for something a little more extraordinary.

Anonymous said...

Horrible. If only there was a point to get across. The art is fading, slowly. Corrupt it.