“What?” I catch her staring at her fingers. One of those moments, when something goes on in her head and she waits till I take the initiative to ask her.

“Why do we have spaces between fingers?” She asks smiling back. I know what she is expecting.

I move close and hold her hand, filling up the space between her fingers with mine. “That is why.” I say smirking.


I am sitting in a cafeteria, my usual table in the corner of the world. I stare at my fingers; the space has been there for a long time. I stir my coffee with the spoon, a whirlpool forms, and gulps in the sugar. The same whirlpool that gulped me when you stormed out. I sit there in a corner, all by myself, with all the questions bouncing in the back of my mind. The moments have passed by and I have taken shelter under the dark clouds.


“You are not holding it right,” She complains.

“There is a technique to hold a girl’s hand? How come I dint know?” I mock.

“Do you want to let me go?”

“No! Why would I want to let you go?”

“Well then hold it tightly.”


I pick up my cup; it slips and shatters to pieces. I should have held it tightly. That voice inside screams painfully. Too many things have broken. And the time’s run out to mend those things.

The chapter’s closed.

You had told me the last time we talked. Here I was building the castle of cards for you while you were busy blowing whistles. One card gave into the tunes of your whistle and then it came all crashing down. The chapter had closed.

I look at the spilled coffee, dispersing in all directions. Too many things scattered.