Sunday, September 22, 2013

Acquiescence

“Why are we here?”

He looked up from his work, startled at the sudden question. She did not face him but continued to gaze past the window – possibly at the clouds, if he knew any better – arms crossed, her expression impassive if not slightly wistful. Unable to discern the context of her words, he simply asked, “Elaborate, if you can?”

“I won’t. The question is self-explanatory. Oh and if you can answer this as well – who exactly are you?”

The words escaped him even before he could get up to face her (and perhaps check for fever first, before trying to knock sense in her). “What is wrong with you today?”

“Answer me!”

“But in what context?”

“You know which.”

“I do not. Unless you seem to have to forgotten how you willingly chose to kill time while I finished my assignments – there, the answer to your first question.”

“Incorrect. Also, I still don’t know who you are.”

“Oh, for the love of God! How can you not recognize me?”

“I don’t recognize myself.”

“Shall I bring a mirror?”

“Irrelevant.”

 “How about a blow to your head?”

“How about I offer you a knife instead?”

He finally walked up to her, stopping by the other end of the window, keeping the little distance to avoid overwhelming her. She held his gaze coldly, standing as if in defiance of everything around her. He couldn't help but chuckle. “Does it matter?”

“Unless it matters to you, no.”

“Why?”

“If you’re asking that, then it does matter to you.”

He looked away, glancing at the view before them; a moment of quiet reflection spent in taking in nothing more than myriad hues of white that played across a canvas of infinite blue, before turning to look at her, a slight smile as the only affirmation of their mutual understanding, to be met by a solemn nod in return.

“Let’s not state the obvious, shall we?”

5 comments:

  1. Sometimes, it is just for the sake of conversation, when I don't know who I really am. It wouldn't matter.

    A whim, or a theme, I couldn't be sure. But, nice play of reflection in conversation. (and I cannot explain what that means)

    Blasphemous Aesthete

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    1. I'd call it a whim, but you're free to make of it anything you wish. Thank you for reading. :)

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  2. O.O
    Wow... that's some good writing!

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    1. That's reassuring to a writer who's otherwise struggling to write. Thank you for reading. :)

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Praises or barbs, you are welcome to speak your mind.