"Can I write about you?", he asked pressing his chin on her shoulder.
"Depends on what u have to say, really", she quipped.
"Oh! About us; how much i adore you; how much you mean to me".
He smiled, looking into her eyes. The little whorls of light from the crinkled rice paper lantern were dancing in her eyes.
"Absolutely not! I will disown you if you write anything about like that. You know I am uncomfortable with these forms of public display of affection", she said, as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
It was his favorite gesture.
"But why not?", he asked plaintively.
"Just because I say so", she gave him a devious smile.
He loved the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. So many memories of were tucked away safely within the soft folds of those crinkles.
He growled indignantly and reached for a book. She reached for the newspaper. They both sank in the overstuffed couch.
She leaned on him, her hair tickling his nostrils. From time to time he snorted like an annoyed horse as he brushed her hair away.
A diya burned in the window, flickering gently, making a little island of light in the sea of darkness beyond.
They sat and read in companionable silence; the only sound being rustling of papers as they turned the pages.
Not removing his eyes from the page of the book he reached out for his pack of cigarettes. With practiced ease he flicked open the lid with his finger. Pulling out a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, he put it between his lips. Still reading the page intently he groped on the side table for his lighter. The flame spluttered into life at the second attempt. Turning his face from the pages of the book he leaned forward to dip the cigarette tip into the pool of lighter flame.
..And the flame went out!
She was smiling impishly at him after blowing out the flame.
With barely controlled irritation he thumbed the lighter again. The obstinate lighter wont light now.
With his concentration entirely focused on the lighter, he was totally unprepared when she deftly reached out, pulled the cigarette from his lips and crumpled it in the ashtray.
He stood up and with an angry glance towards her, walked to the balcony and lit up a fresh cigarette.
As he inhaled deeply on his first drag he could hear the angry clickety-click of her slippers as she stormed out of the living room.
He paused half way about to take the next puff, stared pensively at the glowing tip for some moments and then flicked out the burning cigarette in the empty street below. The crumpled packet followed into the darkness as he turned round and walked into the bedroom.
"Can't you even fold the newspaper properly?", he asked.
She looked up at him from the bed, stuck her tongue out at him and tucked her head under a pillow.
He sighed and went back to the living room.
Picking up the newspaper he opened it and folded it again - carefully, neatly - each crease in place, sharp as a knife edge, put the folded newspaper on the coffee table and returned to his book.
She returned after a few minutes, flopped beside him on the couch and reached for the newspaper again.
"Ahem", he cleared his throat.
"What???", she demanded impatiently.
He did not speak. Just pointed at the newspaper with his eyes.
"Oh! You folded it!", she smiled as if she was noticing it for the first time.
Of course she knew he will fold the newspaper. And he knew that she knew. They had been playing this game so long.
"When will u ever learn to fold a newspaper???", his lips formed a thin line. His eyes dancing with laughter.
"Not until you have stopped smoking", she growled menacingly.
"I just stopped", his face was deadpan.
"Really?", her face lit up instantly, "Well, I will have to watch for some more time before I fully believe".
He didn't say anything; just wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.
"I would never fold a newspaper. Not even when I am a hundred years old and senile", she burst into peals of laughter.
He loved to hear her laugh. She laughed like a summer storm.
"You mean I will have to fold your newspaper for the rest of my life?", he asked raising his eyebrows in mock horror.
"Yeah, it was in the contract. Too bad you didn't read the fine print", she retorted with a huge grin.
"You shud write about this", she said touching his cheek lightly, "The secret to a happy relationship is to stop smoking when ur partner wants you to!".
He stroked her hair lightly, "No, its in folding your partner's newspaper for her".
"Depends on what u have to say, really", she quipped.
"Oh! About us; how much i adore you; how much you mean to me".
He smiled, looking into her eyes. The little whorls of light from the crinkled rice paper lantern were dancing in her eyes.
"Absolutely not! I will disown you if you write anything about like that. You know I am uncomfortable with these forms of public display of affection", she said, as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
It was his favorite gesture.
"But why not?", he asked plaintively.
"Just because I say so", she gave him a devious smile.
He loved the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. So many memories of were tucked away safely within the soft folds of those crinkles.
He growled indignantly and reached for a book. She reached for the newspaper. They both sank in the overstuffed couch.
She leaned on him, her hair tickling his nostrils. From time to time he snorted like an annoyed horse as he brushed her hair away.
A diya burned in the window, flickering gently, making a little island of light in the sea of darkness beyond.
They sat and read in companionable silence; the only sound being rustling of papers as they turned the pages.
Not removing his eyes from the page of the book he reached out for his pack of cigarettes. With practiced ease he flicked open the lid with his finger. Pulling out a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, he put it between his lips. Still reading the page intently he groped on the side table for his lighter. The flame spluttered into life at the second attempt. Turning his face from the pages of the book he leaned forward to dip the cigarette tip into the pool of lighter flame.
..And the flame went out!
She was smiling impishly at him after blowing out the flame.
With barely controlled irritation he thumbed the lighter again. The obstinate lighter wont light now.
With his concentration entirely focused on the lighter, he was totally unprepared when she deftly reached out, pulled the cigarette from his lips and crumpled it in the ashtray.
He stood up and with an angry glance towards her, walked to the balcony and lit up a fresh cigarette.
As he inhaled deeply on his first drag he could hear the angry clickety-click of her slippers as she stormed out of the living room.
He paused half way about to take the next puff, stared pensively at the glowing tip for some moments and then flicked out the burning cigarette in the empty street below. The crumpled packet followed into the darkness as he turned round and walked into the bedroom.
"Can't you even fold the newspaper properly?", he asked.
She looked up at him from the bed, stuck her tongue out at him and tucked her head under a pillow.
He sighed and went back to the living room.
Picking up the newspaper he opened it and folded it again - carefully, neatly - each crease in place, sharp as a knife edge, put the folded newspaper on the coffee table and returned to his book.
She returned after a few minutes, flopped beside him on the couch and reached for the newspaper again.
"Ahem", he cleared his throat.
"What???", she demanded impatiently.
He did not speak. Just pointed at the newspaper with his eyes.
"Oh! You folded it!", she smiled as if she was noticing it for the first time.
Of course she knew he will fold the newspaper. And he knew that she knew. They had been playing this game so long.
"When will u ever learn to fold a newspaper???", his lips formed a thin line. His eyes dancing with laughter.
"Not until you have stopped smoking", she growled menacingly.
"I just stopped", his face was deadpan.
"Really?", her face lit up instantly, "Well, I will have to watch for some more time before I fully believe".
He didn't say anything; just wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.
"I would never fold a newspaper. Not even when I am a hundred years old and senile", she burst into peals of laughter.
He loved to hear her laugh. She laughed like a summer storm.
"You mean I will have to fold your newspaper for the rest of my life?", he asked raising his eyebrows in mock horror.
"Yeah, it was in the contract. Too bad you didn't read the fine print", she retorted with a huge grin.
"You shud write about this", she said touching his cheek lightly, "The secret to a happy relationship is to stop smoking when ur partner wants you to!".
He stroked her hair lightly, "No, its in folding your partner's newspaper for her".
