Trapped

I am trapped. Nothing seems to suggest so though, this room is a patchy hue in the dying light that unerringly filters through that window openning to a lake outside, the other window showing you the glimpse of the busy afternoon city outside, brimmimg with activity but deaf and dumb due to the heavy glasses on the windows, our laptops scattered on the bed, some CDs lying here and there on the ceased bed sheet, photographs stand neatly framed on the walls, and I am sitting carelessly on the bed, legs sticking out at widen angles, everything as usual.

I am laughing happily without any apparent reason, singing a song in my sweetest voice, just for him. He and only he thinks that i am a reasonably good singer. The rest of the owrld cant associate me as a singer, in the first place - good or bad comes much later. He is smiling back at me and telling me I am the most beautiful woman he has ever met. The light is falling softly on my face and a few wisps of hair dangle carelessly on my face. My eyes glow like a million bulbs just lit them. I am ordinary, but in this moment I am the most beautiful woman in the world.

Then suddenly the songs stop and the words come, they flow from me like a burst dam, my face is contorted with endless tears and he is standing by the window. The evening shadows make him look dark, sinister and uncaring. I am frightened. By this stranger, by my words. They are awkward and foreign; they seem to resonate through the room as if carried over a great distance from beyond the old ragged curtain that has magically emerged from nowhere. I don't question its sudden appearance, I am dazzled by too many things I never noticed before. This is not me, shrieking, hurling malicious words at him with the melodrama of a tragic heroine. I am a simple person. I am otherwise rational, thinking; I usually say things straight and walk away with dignity.

But I am confused now. Every thing is so unreal, yet I cannot wish it away. I am sad, I don't remember being this sad or clingy ever. Am I really crying so much, I look ugly and botched with red eyes as he stands away like stone may be a marble statue from a museum? I am suffocated; this well loved room is terrifying. It is mocking me and the illusion between the real and imaginary is rapidly vanishing. May be I am hallucinating. I run towards the door, I must get out. But the door disappears behind that indecipherable black curtain that grows bigger and threatens to engulf me. And him.

That’s when I knew I was trapped. Trapped in his room of memories for eternity.