swing

20th October, 2018

{ Int.  A warmly lit restaurant.}

Devoid of patrons except for four kids who’ve known each other for 17 years. Laughter rings out, shrill, as congratulatory high-fives are exchanged over suggestive innuendos at the expense of each other. They haven’t met in a year,  but it feels like longer; it always feels longer.

Customers trickle in and the failed attempts at muffling hysterical cackling increase in number as everybody is brought up to speed with major-minor life events–but not entirely; no one anecdote sees completion, another always rushes along on its coattails and you think about how when you were little you used to talk about being at each other’s weddings, naming each other’s kids and that might actually happen. It might. Maybe you’ll have these people till the day you die regardless of however many others you find along the way who might stick around too. Cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

           ~* _______ *~

{Int. Childhood bedroom.} 

Although your younger siblings have taken over now, it feels the same. Like nothing could ever touch you here and time has never existed, no obligations except to maybe sleep in the cool dark or cry until you do. Which is a strange juxtaposition, yeah. But so have been your teenage years and it’s tangible here. in this room. You won’t be a teen the next time you visit it

25th October, 2018

{Ext. The local national park.}

The edge of winter, so the 7 am sunlight is extremely forgiving.
Cycling.
It starts off rocky, one of you picks it up quickly, one’s done this before,  the other two struggle until one eventually gives up and decides to just walk the rest of the way, shoving off the others to go on ahead.
You do so reluctantly…until a group of men pass by, eyes lingering for too long, and then all of you turn right back, just to make sure they don’t give her any trouble (they don’t, she’s been keeping to the walking trails). Legs ache and bicycle seats have never been comfortable but it’s beautiful and cool and you take pictures enough to jog even the faintest of memories–for when you’ll need to. Years down the road. older and forgetful. 

~* _______ *~

12th December, 2018

Today’s an ‘I’m the vilest creature in existence’ kinda day. Not a drop of liking myself in sight. Which is fine, I know it’ll pass; but today’s a ‘get home 11 hours later and immediately start crying’ kinda day. An ‘I’m the greatest inconvenience in this dimension’ kinda day. ‘Got a lump in my throat because I can’t find the nail-trimmer and I told daada I’d trim his nails’ kinda day. 

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Simran Can’t Curse On Paper