Young Writers Society

| 7 : 13 PM |

As he checked his wristwatch he realised she was around ten minutes late but he waited patiently for her to show up.

In all honesty, meeting here like this on Christmas Eve was her idea. Even he had no clue what exactly she had in mind but he would never even dream of questioning her. So there he was, standing on a rooftop where she had asked him to come as the snow continued to fall.

"I'm sorry, I'm late. You didn't wait for long, did you?" A familiar voice said. He turned around to face her and smiled - a gesture which was still somewhat foreign to him. He wasn't used to it - not yet, not so soon - but he knew he was getting there.

She returned the smile easily without any hesitation and he couldn't help but feel that she looked even more beautiful smiling so brightly like that.

She was carrying two cups in her hands. She handed him one. It didn't require any second guessing to figure what she had brought for them. Cappuccinos. After all, it was that one thing which was specific to them.

The drink was still warm and he took a sip while she gazed at the beautiful countryside which could be seen from there.

"Doesn't it look pretty from here? I love Christmas." She said cheerfully.

"And I hate Christmas."

"I know." She sighed and then looked at him. "That is why I decided to call you here. So that we can celebrate Christmas together."

She took his hand and led him to the wall so that he too could take a look at the pretty sight that the place had to offer them. The whole place was lit up in Christmas spirit. It was bright, cheerful and warm - the combination that he had eventually come to hate.

She rested her head on his shoulder gently taking him by surprise. His heart skipped a beat. Though he still wasn't certain about love, he couldn't really ignore the effect she had on him. He tried to be casual and just concentrated on his cappuccino.

She straightened in a minute or two and the two drank cappuccinos in silence. Even standing there with her like that was comforting. The calmness that he felt was something that he had longed for years. He knew too well that all this was temporary.

That the relief he currently felt would be gone by the time he'd reach his home. Yet staying here with her was far too tempting for him than to prepare himself for what he'd have to handle later at home.

She finally spoke after a long time-"I usually come here on Christmas Eve every year. Just looking at the busy streets makes you feel happy, don't you agree?"

"No, I don't. What's there to be happy in this?"

She shook her head no. "You're asking the wrong question. What's there to not be happy? Just look. People are going home."

"The way you look at things . . . Not everyone looks at them like that." He pointed out plainly.

"You mean you don't look at things like that. Well, being happy is not a state; it's an attitude."

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Remember how you had said to me the other day that I am too gentle and delicate for this world? That it would crush me?" She paused waiting for his response. He nodded. Of course, he remembered.

She continued-"Well, guess what? If that were the case, I would have been crushed already by this time. The world wouldn't have waited so long then."

"Huh?" He looked at her questioningly.

"It's simple really. Life treats you the way you treat it. You get what you give. I understand the bitterness and the resentment you feel for life. But truthfully what you feel and the way you live - it's a choice."

He countered-"Life doesn't work that way. At least, it hasn't ever for me. I've never had a reason to feel anything other than resentment, self-loathing and bitterness."

"Oh, but you have. Just look up at the sky. What do you feel?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "Nothing at all."

"But have you ever seen the wonder in the eyes of a little kid when he looks up at the sky? Have you ever seen how he raises his hands in hopes of touching it? Or how he simply gazes in fascination and wonder unable to fathom it's vastness? Why is it that a kid experiences all this while you feel nothing at all? Because you're holding yourself back while that kid isn't."

He didn't say anything allowing the meaning of her words to settle in.

She continued further-"I know it's whole lot easier to say all this. And what you face is not at all easy. But it is okay to hope for the better. It's okay to dream. Because even when things go terribly wrong hope gives you the strength to hang on."

"Life has never given me any reason to hope. In fact, I do not even have the strength to fight for long enough." His voice was quiet.

"There's no wound so deep that nature can't heal. Just looking at the sky, don't you feel it? The strength to fight. The strength to not give up. The strength to hope for the better."

He looked up once again.

She was like-"Whenever you feel like you don't have the strength left in you to fight just look at the sky for awhile. I promise you that you'll feel hopeful and strong enough to carry on."

He nodded realising that just like that again she had given him another piece of the unfinished puzzle that he had become the years.

Strength.