Sketch,The Series. Ep 1

A small drive and a blind date.

Neither of them were true. Moments earlier, they were a young couple in love, to be wedded soon as husband and wife, in a ceremony blessed happily by their parets, cruising in a mindless rush on the freeway.

It was only moments earlier, wasnt it? The emotion sweeping them and dwarfing the moment itself. The insanity and the elationjoy with a promise of all eternity? It all looked so contrived now, the harsh reality mayhap. The night which had been illuminatiing wonderful moments earlier, crept silently into the morose shadows.

And then it happened.

An error of decision so unlikely of him, but then, that was the erroneousness of the moment too. And now the emotion ended and was replaced by a much stronger emotion, an anti-emotion of all that he had felt just moments before.

She was sprawled in his lap, the woman of his life. It was as if the nature bidding a tearful tribute to his demised love and life. It wept at its foolishness for paining a man, the only heart that could ever stand test to its cruelties. Pure and eternal.

She kept looking into him. Eyes filled full only with regret, she knew that the man holding her would never be the same again. He would never be the kid that he was now. Before her was the only man that she ever trusted and truly loved and now here he was, broken, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to feel, but only sure that the woman of his life was bidding him farewell.

Shw saw pain and he saw only deep regret. But unmistakable to each, there was one emotion that both of them saw, a deep seething pain; so deep and cruel, only her absence was a better way out of this pain, she could never endure it and neither would he.

It was the end of a man, the man-child. The precious child was dead and it would never come back. He sat there alone, desolated and helpless in the very true sense of the word. The road was empty, with only the stars that stood, like fallen tears of the moon.The road desolate and him heart broken.

Rivulets of blood drying up fast. Their blood was a tribute to their love. Love masquerading as blood was fast leaving them. It was this blood, that was once theirs and would never be his again, and it would never be anyone else’s.

The blood left stains and the marks went deep; no cleaning would ever rub off that stains. They would never mean anything more than dried blood to anyone else, but to him they were all that were once his. Only his. And now they would stay with him. Till the end.

The moment would forever remain etched in his life. Like a stain of acid that was etched on glass, it was a stain that could never be erased, it added a rare beauty to his persona, and to the insanity and injustice of the moment itself.

(Inspiration: The Last Kiss by Pearl Jam)

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