My phone pinged. It was a mail. It was his mail. It had been almost a month since we broke up, OKAY! since I broke up with him. I was eager to see what he’d written.

Dear Ana:

How are you? I know you were not expecting this. But you would not pick up my phone or see me so I thought I would write you an email and I hope you’ll at least read what follows.

This is not an attempt to re-kindle what we had. I am promoted. And there’s a felicitation ceremony. And there’s no one to call. Except you. I don’t know if you would want to, or if you wish to, but I hope that you’ll kindly accept my invitation and be my partner for an evening, Won’t you?

I’ll wait for your answer. Do tell.

Sam J.

I got nostalgic of the times when he used to write romantic letters laced with love. He would not have asked me then. He would have scooped me right through my house. I turned my laptop on, logged in and wrote a reply:

Dear Sam,

I shall.

Ana.

I was about to log out when I saw another reply. Had he been waiting all the while?, I was surprised.

Dear Ana:

I’ll pick you at 6 tomorrow?

PS: There’s a customary dance after the felicitation.

Sam

I replied.

Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.

I do not know how I passed the time until the next evening. I tried hard not to think about him, his perfect body, his smooth arms, his voice, the way he used to call my name, the way he used to pin me whenever he felt aggressive, the way he kissed me the first time.

I did not remember the last time we kissed. I tried hard. I could not remember. It was long back. It irked me that I could not remember.May be I did not know that it would be the last one. I sighed.

I started planning my clothes and the accessories. He loved white. He said he loved it when I wore white. So, I picked my best dress-the kind you wear to a social-formal occasion. It was lace and it was beautiful. I chose the shoes to go with my dress. As ever-No make up.

It was 5. I put my dress on and tried to do my hair. I gave up. My hair was the most stubborn part of me. I buckled it up high, letting the strands fall over my face. I practiced not to give that look-That look which says- “I am insanely in love with you.” I practiced the look which says-“I ‘m happy for you though it doesn’t matter much to me”, Truth was, it did! I rolled my eyes. Then started reading, so that it did not appear like I was waiting desperately.