Tale teller: Nikhil Katara
In all those years that had gone by, and there were loads of them, she never complained. She never knew how to complain. He had told her what to do and she had done what was told. It was fairly simple. He had been fair, respectful and loving, all through till the day he left. She had taken a month off to get used to the fact that he wasn’t around. No, she hadn’t cried yet. When you’re seventy eight you don’t cry for the ones who’ve left, because they are not too far away. She knew she’d join him soon and he’d tell her what ought to be done, like always. It was too difficult to make these decisions and she was now too old for it. All the young girls had been independent and free and they spoke about it all the time. But she had never been that way. And now when there was no one to depend on, she felt the weight of the world on her. Her shoulders weren’t strong. So she took off, to another part of the world. Away from people, away from thoughts, And away from decisions that had to be made. In her quiet hotel room, she sat. In the moist remains of the moment she heard his voice, it whispered. He called her to him. She called room service and ordered. A lemon coriander soup for her, a manchow soup for him and a Chicken Cesar salad for both of them with some breads to go along. He would have loved this. And as the food sat near her, she saw it, with interest, and although it looked sumptuous and although it smelled as good as any food can smell, she wasn’t hungry anymore. She decided not to eat it. But she stopped, stared, and savoured the moment.