He was sitting at the office desk in the room, writing to her, all wired up – personally as well as the machines! His briefcase was on the bed. So he removed it. She will yell at him.
Even when she is not here, he fears her loving fury!
He took pictures of the room since he has not ruined it yet. He made some coffee and hoped she would come on to reach out, touch him with her electric love and affection.
He was awaiting her in this plush resort, counting moments.
The bell rings and he opens the door.
He sees her smiling with a meaningful, joyous look on her face.
He embraces her. Emotions well up.
Her eyes were moist.
Unbelievingly, he touches her lightly on her neck, snuggling his face into it, inhaling the sensitive aroma of her feelings.
Both were shaking with joy. There were no words …
They hugged tightly, never wanting to let go. Holding each other, they closed their eyes and saw their lips saying "kiss us, please."
He sees her.
He sees her face, too.
He could smell her aroma.
He could sense that amor.
She smeared his tummy with the fire of hot caresses.
He heard her mumbling sweet nothings, and he felt it happening.
He was trying to grasp her hand and kiss it as many times as waves of her touch came flowing all around circular motion – reaching everywhere.
Suddenly, a paper drops down from his chest pocket.
He picks it up.
The paper was in his hands, but she disappeared.
There was a baffling silence. It was fury – the dead of night …
Oh, why? Oh, why she left ?!
He was reading it before she entered the room.
It was written decades ago, but it is preserved as heirloom of love.
Every single letter was legitimate, and each single word still bore the same sentiments that gripped him eons ago.
He read this note not once, not twice, but as many times as the calendar rolled out.
His eyes were moist.
He wanted her to read it out to him, but it was not be.
Engulfed in loneliness, once again he read it:
"The smell of those months; the deserted afternoons of the campus; the coolness of your white shirt; the end of that rosy winter; the fragrances of the May flowers; the sunshine of happy meetings, and the smell of coffee in the Student's Center …
Oh, how I wished it never ended! "
"The whiff of Nicotine straight from your lips still engulfs me; those beautiful eyes I still adore; that beautiful flawless English, and deep words you wrote in blue or black with those dry flowers sealed in – to fill the gaps, still send my heart racing. "
It was the last note he had from her.