The crowd started clearing; a sheer veil of innumerable sky lanterns, shimmering like fireflies, had dotted the sky; their glimmer reflected in his eyes as he looked up yet failed to beguile him, for the flare of hope, in his heart, had started to wane.
Twenty five years – it was long enough for a playful promise to be forgotten, he knew, yet he believed those memories were meant to last beyond the bounds of time; love, lust or any earthly bond never held them together, hence the presence of those could never hold them back from each other.
Yet he lost hope as darkness slowly found its way back into the night sky; deciding to leave, he rose to his feet and then…
‘Don’t you remember…I’ve a knack of coming late,’ her voice came from behind, making him turn back and find the grinning face of his best friend.
Written by Chirasree Bose for Three Line Tales, Week 125