Lonely Mystery
Lonely Mystery
I saw her sitting by the pond. I thought I knew her. I thought she had friends. I thought her days were full of joy and laughter. Never dreamt of her sitting all alone.
That day, I saw no joy. Maybe she had it and just didn't show. Maybe she didn't. My love for her made my curiosity restless. I had to go because she looked as if she was about to cry. At least from a distance, she looked as if she was about to cry.
I couldn't help it. She didn't know. I couldn't say. I went. Walking towards her, I realized that she was drawing. I knew her. She loved drawing. Not crying, drawing. When I went close enough, she looked up and smiled.
"What are you doing here?" She asked in a very low tone.
"Just... uh... nothing. What are you doing?"
"Drawing. Cool breeze, dark clouds, green trees, clear water. Everything a painter wants."
I sat down. At that moment I felt a sudden urge to tell her everything. Tell her what she meant to me. Tell her how much I loved her, and I don't regret my next move.
"I love you. My heart is pounding but I want to say this. Maybe you don't feel the same way, but..."
She moved and rested her head on my shoulders and we never talked again there.