she turned and looked away,
so as to not let him see,
the glistening drop that came and vanished into the murky darkness.

i guess it was a test for them both;
different aptitudes.
strictly, she didn't qualify; and neither did he.
it cringed every now and then,
but she didn't let it show.
excusing herself, she found herself on the floor almost on the verge of breakdown.
swallowing in gulps, she pulled herself up,
looked into the mirror and told herself firmly, "now's not the time".
it was double dosage for her,
but he was taking it no better than her.
...

knowing that it'd most probably be the acid that splits open the stitches,
she went ahead with it.
because she wanted to lock the image clear and strong this time round,
so that in years to come, whenever she's feeling how she's feeling now,
she can just close her eye, and unlock the piece that she kept tightly locked.
sadly, the one that's so vivid, would be the one of him walking away.
...

and she dropped her gaze
as he turned to wonder what she was doing.
not bothering to explain the reason for her long absence(s);
most of the time she stood a distance apart, watching the scene; one that she depicts, and another that she sees clearly so.
sadly, she braced herself;
putting on her mask, she went back to reality.
...

the tears have all run dry.
but the ironic thing is that,
this morbidity and despair that comes after are far more cruel.
...

the weather today is mockingly good.
still, she's not harbouring any hope.
she hasn't been since a month ago.
as she walked slowly home, she realised-
it was just casablanca.