ThoseStrings-RedPaper

Those Strings | RedPaper.in

RedPaper.in – Short Story
By: Preeti Vyas | RedPaper.in

The whole atmosphere in the home was kind of hot from past few weeks. When its windy and chilly outside, it feels weird to enter in a home filled with weird warm clouds of unease and awkwardness. They just exchanged looks at the dining table, her brother took his food inside his room and came out when he is done and vanished away she didn’t know where. She was small for everyone but older enough to get the clue of damp air filling inside the house for a while now. But she didn’t actually hold an authority to tell people things or order them, maybe she does.

Parting was not easy for them too, but they decided that after consideration of all those weird long nights of being together but not. Things have ended for them for a long time now, but they are just carrying it around like a bag filled with those empty boxes which are too heavy to carry now. Sometimes life turns out to take unpredictable turns and you cannot predict how to drive in those weird lanes. The better choice feels like to abandon the car and walk away, take an escape rather than suffering from the unfamiliar loss.

They decided to tell them a long time ago but could not gather the courage. Last week, he occurred to hear those heated conversations and they had to tell him. But they still were struggling with words to deal with her. She is small and fragile. She hasn’t even seen the world around to understand its intricacies and its ways. But they decided to wrap it up today.

After dinner, they pumped their breaths and entered her room. She was asleep. Her room was filled with all those colored confetti and her colors. She was really good with those. They found a book lying on the floor. It seemed like one of her incomplete works. There were glitters, colors all around. She picked it up and turned some pages from the beginning. It was having their old photos, stamps, and tickets stuck randomly in colored pages, from the times when they used to maintain their travel logs and capture it all they can. There was an envelope. He picked it up. He found a record. He remembered it distinctly.

They came to the hallway and plugged it in. They haven’t heard those tracks for a while now. Attached to the book was a list of songs they used to exchange when they were in college. It was all there playing out loud. And they didn’t realize that they turned back and started traveling again in the road from where they started as those words played. It just feels like it’s worn out but sometimes strings are stronger than what one can comprehend.

Feature Image: Shutterstock

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