If you wanna go, then go. I won’t stop you.
There are just some words in my head that need to be said and they will be said whether or not there’s someone there to hear it. Because you see the world’s all filled with noise anyway, you can’t even hear the sound of heartbeats anymore. The only sound that I think still echoes all around is one of heartbreak but the clinking of glasses at a wooden table in the far corner of the bar drown it as well while a slow rhythm plays out the songs of grief of a love unrequited, a half-smoked cigarette and a faraway dream.
There’s a kid wearing ripped jeans and a woman with her hand wrapped around a bottle of cheap whiskey ogling his naked knees from that lonely corner of the bar. The glasses are clinking still but the kid got up, walked out, not really a kid, just a man, a little short, walking a bit funny. The woman is chipping her black colour painted nail with the edge of her tooth and she drops the whiskey bottle.
No one blinks an eye, there’s just more clinking, another slow rhythm song about the world ending in a heartbeat when she turns around to see the snow falling and him standing beneath it. There are more things than the jeans that are ripped now. A broken shard of whiskey bottle made its way inside her boot, it cut open the skin of her feet. Her eyes still searching for the kid. She gets up to follow behind. What path could he take with his weird funky walk? That hair, she’d never seen something so bizarre before. The bar is pulsating with the rhythm of heartbreaks. He was the only one tapping his foot to the song, itching to dance.
Another unfinished story that I might never finish.
Meet the person who inspired these Vardhan Chronicles @SidharthVardhan