The written and the unwritten

It was a romance built solely on words. Yes, they met often, caught some movie and plays on most weekends. And dessert was a part of almost every itinerary. But their relationship was devoid of other trappings.

They met at a food court, each sampling a few flavors at Baskin Robbins. She settled on mint and chocolate while he picked Bavarian chocolate. A chat at the ice-cream counter turned into a long conversation over pizza the following day.

There were no declarations of love. Just a quiet understanding between them that they would spend at least one day of the week together. Rest of the week they relied on numerous chat conversations and never-ending phone calls. They also wrote to each other. At least once a week, if not more. She sort of insisted on that.

She was allergic to any sort of gifting. And after some disasters, he gave up trying. Instead she’d scout for poems, articles and other bits of writing that she thought he might enjoy. He reciprocated likewise.

Fortunately for them, their chat transcripts resided in the virtual world. The frequency, with which they were retrieved, sometimes to prove a point, sometimes to relive the conversation, would make them resemble old worn-out photographs, kept for safekeeping in the wallet.

They weren’t big on photographs either. She preferred the postcard shots while he’d be too busy arguing with her instead of capturing the moment. Their moments were captured in verbal memories: “Remember the time you said <insert incident> and I burst into a fit of giggles?”

Their fights were pretty eloquent too. Only their endearments would get suppressed to make way for more colorful language. And after a while they’d be back to courting the other with their words.



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