I had an impulsive urge to rearrange my entire room last month at a time equally away from noon and evening. By the time it was midnight, there was patch of untouched floor in my room three out of five furniture pieces at new postings. By the time is was sunrise, the untouched patch of floor was cleaned and pushed back to inaccessibility and, five out of five furniture pieces were back to their older postings. You see, the new arrangement didn’t let my mind sleep even though my body only craved sleep. It is though another conversation altogether that neither did its predecessor. A week after that, my documents were less documented and more scattered – one sheet at a time. The files within reach seemed too far for me and, it all kept piling up. But the Friday last week, I made the journey to them and filed papers dated back to kindergarten. Floors were mopped; clothes were pressed; errands were ticked and everything was put to place. I arranged life like you’d arrange dominos.Continue reading Commas; Dots
I’m painting your nails while you fill me up on what’s happened over summer and autumn in your life in between sips of a chocolate and peanut butter shake. You wanted something common that would go with any outfit you wore tonight so you chose a metallic black with bits of glitter. A nude would have been bland for your taste; it would be my choice of nails. I’ve locked your fingers with mine because you’re reckless and I was determined to let the paint dry without a smudge this time. You complained about not being able to drink the shake like this before giggling at the possibility of you still managing to get a smudge on the nail-paint. Because of course, that would be classic you and not entirely impossible. But then again, that’s if it were somebody other than me involved in this equation.
The rooms lit up in purple with a splash of white from the worded light telling you where you are. There are posters of the 70s, The Beatles, and lyrics of songs you’d look up on your way back home. The wall of mirrors on the left corner would add space to the studio but the illusion is broken with frames in matte bronze, brown and unfitting geometric shapes. You can smell the leather from the couches huddled in the centre with sufficient cushions in different textures of white and, cream.
You’ve got the last half of the chocolate cake in front of you and, me – instant noodles topped with scrambled eggs. The whole world knows orange juice goes well noodles and eggs but, only you seem to have a liking for its pairing with chocolate cake. It’s three quarters away from midnight and, this was our dinner.
It’s a weekend night and I’ve picked my best suit for tonight – an ebony blue, single-breasted suit – with a white shirt with prints of sails you’d notice if you looked closely. I kept the tie plain, matching the suit in colour and the shoes a teak oxford. The highlight of the outfit was a secret – the multicoloured striped socks with stripes in outrageously bright shades of yellow, orange, red, and maroon. I brushed my hair back and then ruffled it lightly. And finally, I dabbed some mahogany musk to the designated pulse points before putting the white handkerchief in the right back pocket of my pants. I left the phone behind as I picked up my wallet and, stepped out onto the street with a black trench over my shoulders and a clear umbrella in hand – just in case. Continue reading Strung
He sipped on double espresso while the sky wasn’t yet struck by sunlight. He was dressed in a crisp white button-down paired with a pair of lightly plaid khaki pants tapered at his ankles that stayed on his waist with the help of a walnut brown leather belt. The back of his neck was plastered with droplets of cold water that fell off his washed hair. He smelt of musk flavoured cocoa – odd in theory but intriguing in practical. The one-day-old stubble brought more shadows to his jawline, bringing out its sharpness. He liked to sit outside, next to the benches, on the smoothened rocks. You could see rays bounce off the marigold here and, the wind danced to ballads in ballet.
It’s a quarter to seven and I’ve sent you four emails so far. Three with today’s deadlines completed. And the fourth, informing you of my leave. High fever, I inform you.
It’s two hours past midnight and, the room still smells of summer this fall night. She’s got the mattress pulled over to the window that replaced the wall and, an untouched bed five feet away. There are two novels stacked beside the mattress – both being read simultaneously. The yellow outside brings out the pink in the purple blanket and, adds orange dust to the red pillow. No curtain hides the window, letting the sky change the palette of the room with time and, mood. She settles in with her hair pulled back in a bun made with neat intentions but messy results and a cup of cinnamon infused mocha – her taste often made atrocious expressions on other faces. Continue reading Cinnamon Coffee
To those tongues with units on them,
For too long you’ve preached and believed in the fixed standard of beauty. You stitched fabrics that would sculpt bodies in ways they might not have meant to be; making their insides tangle with claustrophobia. Continue reading To Scale
It’s been six months since I spoke to you.
But I know you went to the concert of your favourite band last month when they came to the nearby city. I know that you wore grey and charcoal with white floral embroidery to your cousin’s reception the month before that. I know you celebrated your friend’s birthday last week and took three shots of vodka cheers. I also know that you had scrambled eggs over waffles and, fresh orange juice for breakfast today at the cafe two blocks away, in your black tracks and white tee. Continue reading Six Nine