Short Story: Unrequited Love


The clock ticked past midnight, as my painted fingers reached for some tissue and shred them into the tiniest bits. I sat upright on the bed, my face resting on my bent knees and half-closed eyes still strolling its way through the disturbed comforters and the moist pillows lying one on top of the other, and a lock of hair fluttering in front of my eyes in the noiseless wind from the ceiling fan.

I continued strolling my eyes around the bed until it halted the moment they fell upon him. He was fast asleep, his back towards me, resting his palm under his ears. I could feel the mild rise and fall of his back with every breath. I had a strange urge to reach out to him. And I would stroke his back with my fingers and feel his breath. I would tug him close to me and feel the warmth of his manly presence. He would wake up by then, and pull me closer and let me bury my face between his arms. And in the bliss of the moment he would tell me how much he loved me. And I would secretly shed a tear even as I pretend a sleepy moan.

But my eyes would only keep staring, handicapped by the very longing that made me urge close to him.“Would I ever want to belong to him?” I wondered. To me every day is the same. I have everything I need. Money, food, a job and loads of love. But on days I get weary of love. How much more do I want to be loved? In my dictionary love has taken a ghostly definition. It’s a phantom that burrows a hole in me and plays heartily with my deepest emotions. A trident piercing my heart, but not the way they show in those greeting cards – where an arrow piercing a heart is the symbol of utmost love. But how I long to be presented such a greeting.

On second thoughts, that would be the cruelest thing to happen to anyone who presents me with the greeting. May sanity prevail on him who shall dare so.

I stretch my legs through the comforters and rub my eyes, an involuntary sigh accompanying this eye-rubbing exercise. Between times of a hard work this exercise refreshes me and I’ve started adopting it as a routine these days. And I’ve also developed this habit of inventing new exercises to keep me fresh. They don’t work at times, but atleast they give me a chance to think – something that I otherwise confine to the anonymous entities that make my livelihood.

I’ve been in love. Far more times than one can imagine. I’ve been loved. Far more than anyone else would have hoped to be. But love is also what I miss. Its one of those things you tend to miss the moment you have it in abundance. Because it was not your choice that you wanted it in abundance. And now, you don’t have the slightest choice to live in its absence. I’ve learnt, not by choice again, to like what I hate. But I do want to know, how it feels to miss someone. Or, how it feels to be missed. Do you miss someone if you love them? Why did none who loved me, miss me?

I turn back and look at him again. He’s still fast asleep, contented with his magical moments with me, albeit weary. I do have a way about making people happy. But will he miss me when its time for me to go? Did he feel in me, the real human heart pumping its own delicate longings when he showered his intense love? Did he see me or his love? I don’t even know his name. Neither does he, I would suppose.

But it is, in either case, only a few hours that I’ve seen him. And only a few more that I would see him. In the between, I let him make me his. A wax in his candle, that he lit and blew as he pleased. Tomorrow, I will let another man make me his. Tomorrow, it would be another candle. And I look forward to it, as I intend to invent a new exercise.

Inspired by this Woody Allen short story.


7 Responses to “Short Story: Unrequited Love

  1. What an ending, Kishore. I wonder how you put your finger on all those fine, mish-mashed emotions. Amazing, as certain people like to put it.

  2. Why did I not write this post? :/

  3. 3 Bewitching

    Nice Story!! Ummm…Sorry, I’ve been scarce…here lately. Ever since I started doubling up on classes…to get my clearance to leave early…I have like…zero amount of time to do anything. (Fyi, I used that title “Unrequited Love” on one of my old blogs.) Ummmm…Strange. Anycrap. Someone is using my Bewitching name…on Mahen’s blog…and it’s ticking me off. So, mystery person using my screen name…please stop. Thanks. Goodbye.

  4. very well written. For aminute I almost forgot that it was a man’s blog!

  5. 5 Kishore

    Thanks! Its your turn for story now. ;)

    So write.

    Thanks, but why would someone fake you?

    Thanks! Atleast you managed to remember that much. :)

  6. 6 bewitching

    idk. Mahen knows it’s not me…b/c they would have to put their on email in that little box. I don’t care anymore…goodbye.

  7. 7 Kishore


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