Of what it could be…

It’s not that he never cries, but when he does, he usually knows it’s coming, and he keeps feeling like he can stop it if he would really try, and then it makes him feel kind of guilty to cry even though he can “not cry.”  It makes him feel fake.  But when he cried this morning on hearing her voice, he knew it was not fake.  He still tried to stop it, and he did actually succeed, but still couldn’t stop sobbing.

It was the first time in years he had not heard her voice for so long.  He was used to starting his days with her voice, and it was her voice he was used to go sleep with.  He was so accustomed to it, it never occurred to him that he may have to live without it some day.  And still when it came to that, he did reasonably well. He plunged himself into his tasks – building his bridges back.  “Enjoying life is so subjective,” he thought.  He started forming new definitions of enjoying life, and of life itself.

But when she called this morning, past a few awkward moments, he saw nothing has changed – he is the same he, she is the same she, and it still could be the same “us.”… It came so suddenly – tears rolled down.

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