Post (With a beginning, middle and end)

“So,” she said, crossing her legs, “post?”

She stretched out a hand to take the bundle from him. A plump, light brown arm. Smooth, newly waxed skin that dimpled at the elbow. Four scars, he counted. Not neatly parallel like he’d been led to believe by numerous horror movies, but haphazardly across the back of her hand and her arm.

She was looking lazily through what he’d handed her. Envelopes, flyers, a parcel. Lazily, but sorting them out: he noticed how all the flyers went to the bottom of the bundle, the envelopes above them, the parcel… She looked down at the parcel, and he saw her eyelids smoothen as she closed her eyes with a small sigh. Hardly for a moment, before she looked up at him again and smiled, “Thank you.”

He had no reason to stay any longer: she was already picking up the book from where she’d put it down, opening it at random, ignoring the bookmark she’d put in when he’d walked into the room.

She waited till he’d left, and picked up the post. He was at work, she knew, and she didn’t want to disturb him. She ripped open the parcel and dropped the brown paper in the wastebasket; took out the books, glanced at them, and put them aside. She reached for the flyer with the stars on it: the work she’d been dreading all week, but she knew she had to do.

He paused at the door of the room and turned to watch her. He welcomed the distraction from work he really didn’t want to do; he was curious too. He watched her read the flyer; wondered why anyone would send her stupid stuff like that. He wanted to tell her to leave it be, let it lie a little longer.

She looked up at him over her shoulder, smiling, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses. She held the flyer out to him, sighing as she said, “The things one has to do…” He looked at the stars on the flyer, in her eyes, outside the window, and smiled. A crooked, one-sided smile with his head cocked slightly to one side, charming, mischievous. “Why do it, then?”, he said, even as his eyes said “I know why, of course…” She laughed at that, throwing her head back, earrings dancing under her short brown hair, as his smile broadened…

She wrote to the address on the flyer, she did what she needed to do. After all, he would always be there to listen to her if she wanted to complain about it.

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10 Responses

  1. Why do you insist on posting the same post thrice? With different formatting?

  2. this is…hmm…

    nice…when both are put together…fascinates

    a lot to say but I think I’ll keep shut.

  3. Two endings!
    And many hangings 🙂

    I like the line about the stars.

  4. Observer: Different posts. Read. And it’s my blog, so unless I know you, I’ll do what I like and it’s none of your business!

    Mr. Nair: Say it! Please?

    T: Well, to each his own. 🙂

  5. Ah, but you do!

  6. No, I don’t. Make yourself known, or begone! Hmpf!

  7. well, know how when playing/composing a musical piece, the use of a single note…either removing it, or changing it, can change the whole mood of the piece?

    is kinda like that. Where you don’t realise why you felt differently reading the two pieces, until you pay close attention.

  8. Mr. Nair, am indeed flattered!

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