The Wait (Fiction)

The Wait

Restless, he got up and walked to the window. It had started drizzling. The parched ground was thirstily drinking up the droplets. A cool breeze brought in the aroma of the wet soil. Throwing his head back he inhaled the earthy smell — she should have been here.
Something fell down in the room behind him, but he did not turn around. As usual, Bubbles had tumbled over something.
“You know, you should name him Bumble and not Bubbles,” She would often laugh over it.
There — again her memory. Would she come back? Or, this time ……? She had always been there for him …….giving, understanding. But each one has a threshold. For how long would she take his insecurities, his complexes, his unreasonable traits ………?
He suddenly stopped! There! Her perfume! she was back! He heaved a slow sigh of relief —
But then, why he didn’t hear her enter? Whatever ……she was back and that’s all that mattered.
He went still! Sucked in a sharp breath …… the perfume was too strong. It indeed was her perfume, but she used just a light dab of it, never liked it strong. Then?
His shoulders slumped down. Slowly he turned around, walked away from the window, knelt down. He groped around with tentative fingers, found and picked up the perfume bottle.
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