Friends Short Story – She never understood Him
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All he had was his guitar and a pack of cigarettes. He didn’t have aims or ambitions like her. He penned his thoughts in his songs, conflicts and love in rhythms, his world was a war in words.
She sat in the first bench, copy and pen. He had the last bench, a dream between light and shade. She had her routine, books and lectures. He had a poem to end.
She never understood him.
She was attentive in every class. He was lost in days on end. She shared every note she had with him, he wrote her lines on wishes and dreams. When the teacher asked him sums, she looked at him, he looked too glum. She looked away as if in pain; the teachers sent him out, now and again. She stole a quick glance outside, he was smiling too broad, not trying to hide. He was not there, he was living a dream.
She never understood him.
She sat for tests, she always read before. His eyes were puffy, his body was sore. He gave her chits, more of his words; battles, scars, the world was blurred. She winced and gave them back. It pained him a little, stuffed them in rack. He looked at the text, he tried his best, but she showed him the copy and he passed in test. Out in the open they met again, he looked at her, she looked at him. Her social work, the club, the gym. A little dazed, he said something on religion, fights and red, of memories lost, how glories fade. One moment he was smiling, next moment he was grim. She never understood him.
She thought of winning the world, she thought of making a change, his thoughts were long lost amid the smoke rings. Dreams of a parallel universe kept him alive; she had her aims, he had his poems. To him, the world was red, to her life was green. He never understood her. She never understood him.
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