Mise-en-scene

I thought airport would be the backdrop. It doesn't matter where I am going, doesn't matter where he is. I am wearing a saree, coincidentally his favourite colour, and pretending to read a travelogue as if I never noticed him coming towards me. The writer is describing the solemn calmness of the river but only I can feel the tsunami within. My God! Am I going to die? He asks ‘my goodness, are you reading something in English?’

I thought it would be a rainy day. Am working to meet tomorrow’s deadline. My glass is half full with solid and liquid and half with air. Door bell! Am not expecting anyone, but again. It’s him, drenched, shivering, like a little boy who has come home with a guilty face after playing in the rain and awaiting his mamma will clean all the mud and the mess and will forgive him as always. It’s really the rain or he cried.  He doesn't look well. I pass on the towel and he holds my hand. He is burning. I take the towel and come closer to him. Is he shivering or is it me? He looks straight in my eyes and asks ‘are you drunk?’

I thought he questioned a lot. I thought now I would be with him and he would be with her and we would pretend not to know each other forever. But I will for sure think of more and more backdrops until forever.