As I snuggled fitfully under the covers, trying to prolong the state of being semi awake, the thought snuck up on me: "He's getting married."
Call it premonition or woman's intuition or something akin to that. I felt it would be happening very soon. Or it could be still some time in the future. But, eventually, he would marry her. That's for sure. And I was the trigger, the catalyst, the one who made him realise he can't play anymore.
There was an uncomfortable stab -- not quite a dagger, not even a pen knife, more like a blunt pencil, maybe -- somewhere in the region of my heart. And I woke up completely.
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