“Do you still figure constellations that look like our initials together?” he asked calling a random number, again.

“Who is this?” the woman’s voice asked back like most times, but before he could reply, it added, “no, not any more.”

A moment passed.

“Then, you have grown up,” he said stroking his greying hair, still not believing his luck.

“No,” she laughed this time, “I figured you were too far to be some constellation. I would rather imagine you as the clouds that hid them. At least, then you rain on me sometimes, and we can have our…” she stopped once and then added softly, “conversations.”

A moment passed.

“How are you?” he finally asked, after the pause.

© Arindam Dey


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