One Last Time

As she settled down on the couch with a salad, she began flipping through the channels. Eventually, she stretched out a bit and before she knew it, her tired body was fast asleep. Her husband wouldn’t be home for at least another five hours and the empty house resounded with her soft shallow breathing.

When she woke up, she found her father sitting across the room in a rocking chair. Pleasantly surprised, she sat up and spoke to him. She hadn’t noticed the incessant rain outside, she hadn’t noticed the empty bowl lying on the floor nor had she noticed the clock, all she noticed was her father who looked happier than ever. Together, they spoke of everything just like they used to before. Between conversations of her childhood and his advice to her for her future, she realized how much she had missed him. They sat speaking for what seemed like hours altogether but it still didn’t seem enough. She could sit there forever, she could listen to him forever and all that mattered to her at this point of time was him. And only him.

When the phone started ringing, he smiled her favorite smile and that’s when she was shaken back into her senses.

As she picked up the receiver, she realized something and gasped.

“Come back to India soon, his body will be taken to the ghats of the Ganges tomorrow.”

The receiver fell to the floor with a soft thud and the empty chair continued rocking.


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