our hands met for the first time

It was cold outside and I remember my fingers numbing for the nth time, folding them and packing a few things I would need, I was all set to meet him.

My hair behaving like a boisterous adult, decided to stay put only after I constrained them with a clature. Delving into the streets and passing by the chilled wind, where the only soothing element was the rays of the sun (yellow as my day) comforted me as the blanket that can surpass the Delhi winter.

He was there. I arrived late, but I already carried the bribe, a chocolate! As my auto came to a halt, I decided to let go of my hair and allow them to dance in the chilled breeze that they meet very rarely. This is what boys like, I guess!

There he was, our eyes met and he recognized me. We stepped in the same direction, waved our hands and moved the lip corners a little upwards. How come the reaction was so so predictive. We expected nothing less or nothing more.

I handed over the bribe and received the same thing. (Guess who made it so evident from the conversations).

With hands, adjacent to each other, we walked, we talked, we looked in the eye, we smiled, we laughed, we ranted about our lives and before we realized it was mildly dark. It was time! And we knew.

Just as we parted ways to reach home on time, our hands met for the first time. I noticed his hands were softer than mine. I felt nice.

The numbing relaxed, the hair was tied, the bill was split and a message “call me when you reach home” was dropped.

That’s all it took to make the two hands meet for the first time.