The main door creaked, ever so slightly; he looked up; it was her. She was looking downwards, trying to avoid his eyes. She put the keys into the basket, undid her shoes, and tentatively started moving towards the bedroom –her bedroom, dragging her feet away from him.
He looked at her as one looks at a stranger in the crowd, a stranger who reminds you of someone you have known from somewhere, from some-place in the past and when you see her you instinctively raise up your hand, open your mouth to call out her name –only to give up a second later in a realization that you might be mistaken, that she represents only an idea of someone you know, that she is just a stranger.
Her face appeared altered strangely among the silence of the room, it had become thin, bereft of any emotion, incapable of expressing love.
He remembered their college days of crazy romance, their passionate lovemaking, a hard fought marriage, and the initial years’ of bliss when they couldn’t stay away from each other even for a moment.
Now they didn’t see each other for days, except at moments like this – accidentally, by chance, avoiding each other. He remembered her wedding face in Delhi; yes, it had changed. He looked away.
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