Flash Fiction: The Breakup

It was a hot summer afternoon in a crowded parking lot. Sitting in a car, sweating profusely, we broke-up. Rather, apt to say, she broke up with me, saying it was in my best interests, a fact I could neither convince nor reconcile with myself.

She was one of the best singers in college. In fact, she had represented the college in many inter-collegiate and national competitions. At first, I was in love with her voice. As I came to be introduced to her, know her and got close to her, I fell in love with her. Fortunately or unfortunately, she too fell in love with me in due course of time. Two wonderful years had passed, until recently, when cracks began to appear and the spark that once was, was doused to ash. The beginning of the end is such a clichΓ©!

We sat in the car, holding hands, cold sweat trickling down the forehead to the chin like a little stream, only for the sounds of our breath, the little whispers of life, to break the silence. As I looked into her starry eyes, tears dancing within them reluctant to join the sweat, I saw for the first time a clueless and frightened set of eyes in what used to be a calm and confident set. What do elders always say – ah, yes – you always see your reflection in others – how apt!

As the initial blur of the break-up passed within the car, I noticed that the color of the walls housing the parking lot was not beige, but yellow. There were other cars in the parking lot, from Benz to Maruti, children playing in the parking lot with the multi-colored hoops that were the latest fad in the market, and people going past our car with their own thoughts and reflections of the life gone by. Details I would never have observed nor reflected on if I was lost in her eyes and hear her sing and listen to her constant chitter-chatter as was the case for the last two years. With her hand held tightly in my grip, tears finally rolling down, I moved to my right to kiss her goodbye. To quote someone I knew, I said β€˜love you to the extent that the measurable becomes the unmeasurable’. She…she kept looking at my direction…not knowing when her vision would allow her to see the love of her life.

I want you to sing that tune

The one you are letting go of

Because, for every memory you are disowning now,

There is a forgotten song.

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6 comments so far

  1. pavani on

    πŸ™‚ (to indicate that i have read, and re-read it).

    Comment to be followed soon πŸ˜€ (Anatomy practical exam — you can’t blame me) :)))

  2. rohini on

    Nicely narrated!
    After listening to the ‘He’ part of the story curious to know if you could cook up the ‘She’ part of the same tale.
    Worth a try, what say?

  3. Kiran on

    @pavani – anything works as long as you keep the ‘blood’y things away from me πŸ™‚

    @rohini – Thanks for dropping by and the appreciation! ‘She’ part of the same tale…hmm, don’t you think it is too complicated?? (no indication to feminism or sexism here, was only trying to complement :P) πŸ˜‰

  4. PM on

    Quick and nice recap/story !

  5. Kiran on

    @PM – essuss me…recap???!! short story wonly, don’t give ppl ideas πŸ™‚

  6. anirbansaha on

    Is this a fiction?
    I have to tell this seemed so real
    I remembered my own breakup
    kudos to such a writing.


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