I sit beside you trying to look through your eyes trying to decipher the signs of impending doom,
I glance once at the little space we occupy on the huge terrace and pathetically smile how it meant the world to us,
I look above trying to join the stars as dots making a happy face but find some dots missing.
I hold your hand and make little circular movements on it.
"I'm getting married," you tell me.
I take a look at the urchins playing soccer below and mentally calculate the score.
One for society.
Zero for us.
I'm mesmerised by the look on our faces-cooler than a cucumber.
As if we were always prepared for this.
I look back for a while.
All those promises of togetherness evaporate into a mere nothing.
I half close my eyes and try to etch out your face.
I fall into snares of delusion again.
The football match is over by now.
My colony kids have won.
Someday we'll win too.