Prose

Loss

“You won’t ever understand”, I said as I slammed the door on his face. It was important to me. I was tired explaining to family, friends and him about loss. Sometimes I wanted to slam the metaphorical door on everyone’s noses till they shut the hell about how it was okay. It wasn’t! It would never be. It killed me, my dreams were all about it and it was just a day. I was almost dying and food didn’t taste the same. I yearned and searched everywhere. How can you lose something this important in a matter of hours? Something that you look at so much of love and care. And here I had people convincing me about how it was PMS and how things like this normally happen.

It’s crazy, isn’t it? When every time you react, people think you have periods. I wanted it back again. The sweetness, the crunch and all of it. I called my office to tell them, “Family emergency, not coming.” Like they’d understand my pain.
That moment my life was at its worst, no man no alcohol no nicotine would replace what I lost.

Finally, I was tired, I slept on the floor mourning, tears flowed down one after the other. How! I wondered. There was no point now. My hopes diminished and my life looked bleak. Just yesterday, the sunset seemed so perfect, and today it was gone.

As I was finally about to close my weary eyes, the message notification brought life back. As I saw his message, I exclaimed, “Oh that’s where you were my love, I almost thought I lost you.” The message read out, “Hey crazy, before you set the world on fire, just check under the couch, you might find it there, and please cut down on the drama, please! And also let me know if it’s safe to come back home.”

And I found my lost cookie under the couch exactly like his message said.

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