-Pooja Khanal


It certainly wasn't the first time it happened. To be honest, I have felt the same species of butterflies in my stomach a few times before. And I don’t even say that he is different from other guys. Well, everyone is different but he has this aura around himself that I can’t seem to avoid — at least for now.

It’s been more than half a year since I first saw him in his vintage black jacket. I remember how we met. Demure as I was, he initiated the introduction and it was nothing more than his amiable nature that I adored in our first meeting. I don’t remember when random meetings started making memories in my heart — memories that I recall in my sleep. I don’t know when it started feeling so special to have him by my side without having to utter a single word. I don’t know how he made love with my soul without a single touch.

To be true to myself and you, it didn’t happen at the first glance, nor the second. I don’t know when it happened. I’m not even sure if it has happened at all. All I know and remember is the black jacket that he wears often and its enticing smell, the thought of which (yes, the smell is deeply rooted in my mind) makes me impatiently crave for the smell of his breath. He wears the black jacket whose color is so common, yet its alluring fragrance, derived from his aroma, is enough for me to express my clandestine thoughts.

I have known what it feels to love and be loved. But with him, there is much more to feel than love — a bond that’s ineffable, the bond between me and him which I know he is completely unaware of, the bond that was given birth by the black jacket, the bond that I wish would last forever.

Maybe the string of fate isn’t always red — maybe it changed its color to black this time.


A version of this article appears on our Medium Page.
First Published on Aug 13, 2016.