It was a Wednesday morning. I don’t remember the year. He woke up with a flutter in his heart. It wasn’t a pain. Definitely, a sensation. But not acute enough to be called a pain. He was worried for a second, then he remembered it must have been about the last evening. Her nails had dug into his hand while they were crossing the road. All night, he had pondered over taking a knife and making the lines of that temporary depression permanent. His heart must have skipped a beat from all those compulsive thoughts. It’s just love, he smiled to himself.
On Thursday morning, he woke up with a whimper. It seemed as if his heart had joined a marathon. He took a few deep breaths, sipped some water. No relief. He tried to think calming thoughts, a meadow, a waterfall in the jungle. But he could not think beyond last evening. His hands had brushed her cheek. Accidentally. He would never commit such an act knowingly. He had opened the car door for her, and she had come too close. She didn’t intend it too. He hoped she wasn’t upset about the touch. But that split of a second kept him up all night. He tried to recreate the sensation but failed miserably. His heart must have skipped a beat from all those compulsive efforts. It’s just love, he smiled to himself.
On Friday morning, it was a mild thump. That’s how pregnant mothers must feel when the kid punches them from inside. Not strong enough to hurt you, but not so weak that one can pretend it never happened. His heart was getting increasingly mischievous day by day, he thought. But he knew it will be unfair to blame the heart. His life had been more eventful in last three days than in all the years put together. Last evening, their eyes had met. She didn’t look away like she normally did. She had held her gaze. She had, almost irreverently, looked into his eyes. It must have been a few seconds, though it felt like an eternity to him. All night he could feel the cosmic glow around him. He tried to relive that split second but failed miserably. His heart must have given up for a second from all that disappointment.It’s just love, he smiled to himself.
He woke up a little late on Saturday morning. He was tired. There was a simmering pain in his heart. He tried to think about the last evening. But it was getting too difficult to focus with all that pain in his chest. He tried to imagine it’s love, but even his thoughts were getting lost in the confusion. He went down on his knees and waited for the pain to pass. Last night, he had confessed his feelings to her and she had not been offended. He dared to imagine that she may even have looked mellow for a second. He had not been able to sleep for three nights in a row. But the pain must subside. He could not bear it anymore. He clutched at his heart as he finally keeled over. Before the last breath, for a split second, the thought crossed his mind – may be, it never was the pain of love.