Story 85

After spending hours sitting on the couch and staring blankly at the dull wall of her apartment, she finally stood up and walked towards the balcony. She needed to breathe fresh air. Before opening the glass door to the balcony, she stood there, staring at the horizon.


The sky had started to change its colour. The sun was about to rise any moment. The darkness in her life was still going to be the way it was. There was not going to be a sunrise to push the darkness away.
She took a deep breath and opened the glass door. The chill of the night entered the room and she shivered.


She stepped out into the cold night and stood taking the support of the railing. She tightened her grip on the railing and looked down – 16 storeys down. The devil inside her mind whispered in her ears ‘how would it feel to fly down 16 storeys and land head-first on the tarmac?’



She let go of the railing and stepped back too shocked by her inner thoughts. She stepped back into the house and closed the glass door. Before she could pull the curtains, she watched the globe of fire peeking out from the horizon.


She felt tired all of a sudden. She had been awake the whole night doing nothing in particular. People she knew thought that she was always sad but no one understood that she was not just sad – she was depressed.
It had been a while now, things were not the way they used to be. It was not as if someone had broken her heart and left her alone to cry. But, there was an emptiness within her that she could not describe; emptiness that she could not get rid of.


She pulled the curtains closed and walked back to the couch. She picked up the journal she had been writing and walked to her bedroom. She kept the journal in the drawer and locked it.

She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Bringing her knees close to her chest she waited for it to happen. They came, slow at first and then faster – the tears rolled down on the pillow. She did not bother to wipe her tears. She was glad that she was at least able to cry. This was the only act that kept her sane and human.


She did not expect it and hence when it happened she turned around in shock. Someone was in her bed and he had placed his arm on her waist. When she turned around to face him she saw that he was wide awake.
She should have wiped her tears, she thought as he started at her. She was not ready for a lecture on ‘try not to be so sad all the time’. It was too late to close her eyes and pretend to be asleep.


He did not say anything. He did not pull back his arm and let it rest on her waist. In fact, he moved closer and kissed her on the lips. She tasted her tears as she kissed him back only because it was the right thing to do. He pulled her closer and she rested her head against his chest. He did not let go of her. He ran his hand over her head and tried to make her sleep. She slept, still wrapped in his arms.


She woke up startled in the morning. It seemed as if she had slept only for a few minutes. She had slept for hours. She was alone in bed. She checked the watch - it was late.

She climbed out of bed and walked to the living room. He was standing at the balcony. She walked towards him but she feared stepping on to the balcony; scared that her previous thoughts might return.

He turned around when he heard her footsteps and smiled. His smile warmed her heart. She stepped on to the balcony and kissed him and he kissed back. He wrapped his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.


She wondered why she could not hold on to the love and warmth that he brought to her life; why did she always end up deeper and deeper into the abyss of depression.

She did not have answers but she knew one thing – he was always there for her; her anchor. The only person who did not judge her or lecture her on ‘try not to be so sad all the time’. He was the only one who understood her. The only one who cared. The only one who could take away her fears, her pain and fill her life with hope and may be some day – pull her out of depression.

The only problem was – he was merely a figment of her imagination.

She stepped away from the balcony and into the house; her arm extended as if she was holding someone’s hand. She closed the glass door and turned around to face – the empty house.

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