A Handful of Sand
By Neel Anil Panicker
Ultimately, all he was left with were a few still born memories; scattered, bruised a d battered images. A diaspora of orphaned thoughts, broken and disintegrated, a heart wrenching reminder of a life, an incessant thumping of a hole in the heart, an ever ticking pain, a painful allusion to a life beautiful.
Of a life unlived, an utopia that would remain just that_ an utopia turned dystopic of ever reminiscent memories, a brutal wound that refuses to heal.
Akhil reaches for the bottle, his third of the evening, his mind a flotilla of blurred images.
Of him, of her, of them, of a life that wasn’t fated to be.”Love you to eternity”.
Her words, her dying words.
Now, an Albatross’ cross that hung around his neck, followed him wherever he went, whatever he did, whoever he met.
An echo, a hiss, a whisper through his ears that slinked into his innards, scraping through his soul, leaving him a man, a mere flesh and bones apology of a human sans any soul, sans any love, sans anything.
At 40, Akhil Srinivasan, a banker in another life, a man with a wife, a living being with dreams and desires and wishes and hopes was a cruel joke Nature had inflicted upon.
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