You told me, you were leaving me over lunch. Well, to be precise over a plate full of your favourite pizza, with your choice of toppings, french fries and iced tea in a tall iced glass.
Could it possibly get more insipid? It was a nice day too. And for something to do, I looked at my plate. The olives were sitting over the pesto like little ladies on green garden grass.
I could almost hear them gossiping.I almost laughed. I almost cried. I almost threw my half of the money on the table and left. Like one of those dramatic, deranged heroines in movies, made by the little man in big,bug glasses.
And then I thought. What? Is this it? Is this going to be our last moment? Sitting in a restaurant amidst insane people, eating food priced too high?
I have an insatiable appetite for last moments. I like to plan them, cherish them and make them into memories .
Big,beautiful grandiose. Melancholy full of pathos. Leaving of lovers, parting of friends, it must all go perfectly.
Its not a recommended way of doing things frankly.But if you have ever missed out on a last moment, one that you can never have back, that you have no memory of, you'll probably feel this hunger clawing at you too.
That it will be an only moment when the feeling of how it ever felt will be the last? That last kiss,last time you didn't let go holding hands,last touch, last time you will ever stare into each others eyes, that last time you will ever remember how his eyes changed colours with the sun, last time when affection had failed to travel easy distance between our eyes.
And then will you probably understand why that over priced lunch, on that wonderful day.. Looked so bland... And that hunger will come clawing at you..
