A Single Car goes Far
I've been single for 1 year, 6 days now. I must say it left me quite a wreck. Crying into my pillow every night helped me save on water and detergent, while cleansing my vision of all toxins and dust particles that may have gathered in the course of the day. Thank God for my naturally jovial countenance, I could manage to escape uncomfortable questions and excessive condolensces, that only etched the word 'widow' into my forehead. Basketball helped of course, it always does. Better than any counselling or movie or party. When I played, I ONLY played. The past, present and future blurred away and only the basket remained with clear, defined outlines.
A common post-break-up tendency is to reach out to another specimen of the opposite sex to perhaps replace the lost one. Well, I gave it a few shots, but it didn't really turn out to be as soothing as I'd expected.
I love time. What a wonderful doctor! You don't have to do anything and it gradually rubs out the sharp edges till they become blunt and eventually fade into the background. Other things come to the fore and a transition of focus and perspective happens. The smile becomes more real and the sparkle in the eye reappears, just as the laughter reaches a crescendo again. Life becomes green. Fertile, promising, exciting and sunny.

Ok, now time's done something funny. I have been an unrelated observer of great woe and misery. Woe and misery of those who are "double." Fights, long-distance tensions, insecurities, "if you don't talk to me every night, I'll be angry" attitudes, "why're you talking to your ex-s, I want you to stop this minute" arguments and so on. I have, in some instances, been called to unfurl the white flag of peace in the midst of a fiery couple on the verge of disaster; not a very smooth situation. I have carefully surveyed the loss of individual freedom when 2 people become "double." Activities like reading, hanging out with friends, going off alone on short trips, making decisions for yourself, and 500 other things that one used to do before jumping down the well, are rubbed out from the calendar of life. The oldest of friends lose first place to someone known for 5 months, who'll probably cause more pain than all your friends put together in a lifetime. Priorities jump onto a rollercoaster and emerge dishevelled and well, different.

It's quite fascinating how this happens. And you know that funny thing that time has done? Well, the formless entity has dug up the sand on the beach of singlehood and made me a delightfully comfortable hole to rest in. Here, I lie. In the complacent shadow of a coconut tree, with the breeze dancing in my hair. And I look out at those poor souls in the waters of "doublehood," struggling to keep afloat, not knowing whether to move their arms or to breathe. Luckily, some have learnt the art and have found a raft to sail away on towards the orange sunset. But most, are still hitting the liquid, which threatens to suck them into nothingness.

I sit and watch, taking occasional sips from my tumbler of iced tea. I see more, hear more, taste more, feel more and touch more, because I'm alone, alone with these sensations. My solitude gives me moments when I can 'sense' and experience things which could've otherwise been lost, had my attention been rivetted by another equally clueless human.
A man walks by and winks at me. I wink back and smile. I allow him to sit with me for a moment. And then I send him off. Because I choose to.

Unfettered am I, the thrill and the power,
Trust me O fellows, a single car goes far.

Phwatttt!!

Her palm felt like a dagger. The hand which had been outstretched to touch the warm body behind the green silk froze in the air before dropping. When the beetroot red drained out, a shadow crept up to his brow. He took a menacing step towards her, a strange vigour in his spirit. Her vision absorbed every movement – the taut jaw muscles, the angry vein on his neck, where the collar of the worn out, blue checked shirt ought to have been, a strange foreboding lining the fingers holding together the fist. She stared at the vein snaking its way into the flesh and for an instant gave up guard.
She saw her lips planting baby kisses behind his ear, while her hand………NO! NO! NO! Now’s not the time for silly whims! She shook her head and focussed on loathing him.
Left foot firmly rooted to the glistening black marble, she deftly raised her right and slid it about a foot back. Fingers knit together into two steeled balls, planted strategically before the chest to safeguard, and if necessary to land a blow. Her hair, a bunch of live wires gone awry, kissed her face, half shrouding the scowl that came easily. Her countenance, fierce like a warrior’s, about to bury a sword into the enemy’s heart.
He grinned, slightly amused by her poise. All she needed now was a short, dirty brownish-grey leather skirt, a metallic corset and high, leather boots, and she’d be no less than Xena. Though the light outside was paling, she saw the grin. A shiver darted through her – was it the sudden coldness in the room or just the fact that the dark shadow on his face had left behind something more dangerous?
He run his fingers through his hair and messed it up, his eyes never deserting her’s. Rolling up the blue checked sleeves up, he revealed arms that had been well worked upon. She gulped for a second, in the next, wondered if he had glimpsed the fear in her watery eyes that had now begun to hurt with the effort of keeping her gaze steady.
“Should we switch on the lights or do you want me to take you in the dark?” He was right. She could scarcely see him now. The orange light of the road lamp travelled through the window pane, creating an illuminated orange circle on the floor. His silhouette was still, she knew that for sure.
“If you touch me, I’ll kill you!” Her voice carried more conviction than she had intended to express. She felt him grin again a few feet away from her.
Wait a minute! Did his silhouette just move?? She could see it no longer. She hurriedly brought feet together, fingers opened and reached out into the darkness to find the switchboard, molten heat oscillating from her brain to her toes. Ah! There it was, next to the bookshelf laden with musty, bound volumes. She carefully edged towards what seemed to have become her sole key to survival. Her hand stretched out to touch the cool plastic, but it touched warmth. Eyes widened, shoulders stiffened. Fear!
Something warm and wet glided down her finger tips to her palm. For five seconds, she let it, giving herself up to that familiar tingling between her legs. When his shrewd hand squeezed her left breast, she suddenly pulled back. His hand pelted down onto her arm, while the other desperately sought another hold. She squealed, jumped and struggled. Pure fear! And then, fury!
Letting out an angry cry, she raised her leg, toe pointing to the ground, potential energy in its truest form. With a much practiced force, she made contact with his groin. He yelped like a dog who’s tail had been stepped upon. Loud curses went up into the young night, as she heard him stumble over the furniture and fall with a crash.
Now she grinned. Remembering the way to the door, she took sure steps towards it, light sneaking in from the edges and the bottom. Before the beast could rise, she pulled it open and ran out into the orange twilight. Free!

Pricking me with your Needle
You want to kill me.
I felt it in your tone, though the mask betrayed you not.
I suspected nothing.
Gently you kissed me.
I winced as the needle danced into my skin.
Poison.
Pain.
Pleasure. Pleasure was yours.
Your eye watered. I caught myself in it.
You pulled it out.
I winced again.
You smiled the smile I loved once.
You sat and watched me die.