They will seep in when you are least likely to notice them.
In a leaking pipe, between two torn halves of paper, inside the shattered glass
remains of a broken window, within long distance phone calls, among the closest
of friends and confidants.
Gaps.
You cannot run away from them. They will catch up, sooner
rather than later.
The phone calls will become infrequent. Birthdays will be
forgotten. You will run out of common topics to discuss.
New friends will grace new photographs while the old
pictures sulk, in your slam book. Threads will snap, memories will blur and
distances will grow.
Small talk will try desperately to fill up those gaps, but
they will remain.
Like the three dots that mark an unfinished sentence.
Like the story whose sequel is yet to come out.
Like 31st December, the loneliest night of the
year.
Like a park bench that is vacant on a cold winter morning, bereft of the warmth a human touch provides.
Like a railway station where the train never stops.
Like blurred pictures clicked through windows stained with the dirty splashes of rain.
Like your favourite song cut short on the radio.
Like a book left unread, the bookmark sitting inside the
anticipating pages.
Like a power cut that ends only when your favourite movie on
TV
has ended, too.
Like a full lunch box that you have nobody to share with.
Like words that sit inside your heart, but are too timid to
come out from the safety of your mouth.
Like mascara spoilt by tears.
Like when you have earrings in your favourite colours, but
your ears are not pierced, so you can’t wear them.
Like everything that does not make sense, and like nothing
that does.
Gaps.
There are gaps that people can fill for you. And then there
are those you have to fill for yourself. The day you can tell them apart,
perhaps they will start to disappear. Till that time, be prepared. Because they
will stay.
Gaps.
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