Chapter 1 : First Week of April

Humans are cursed creatures. We will find something that lacks in anything, no matter how fulfilling our lives might be. There is always something missing. In a way, this a driving force that helps us set goals and aspirations. And we keep working or doing something to keep our minds occupied. A life idleness is fit for no individual, for we are creatures who starts to loathe comfort and safety as there are no black holes in it. We wander on and on searching for eternal happiness, abandoning anything that seems to bring us only a little bit of joy.

I lived a life of comfort, security and safety. My mother and I resided on the tenth floor of our flat. The view, was beautiful. Tall trees with lush green pillows on its heads, surrounded by smaller flats and houses, with smooth roads and cars like adult cockroaches with red and yellow lights. I ate incredible food and did simple chores. I had my privacy. I was supposed to be happy. But I wasn't. I had no friends. Nobody around my age to talk to. I was lonely.

So I started writing letters. Yes, the old fashioned, almost non existent method of communicating with someone who resided miles away from you. I know exactly how I found him. It was during the first week of April. We had exchanged letters on February but I never replied to his final letter. He wanted to meet me on a date. I cannot explain why I never replied to that letter. Maybe, I felt overwhelmed. Too soon? I did not even know him well enough. Both of us were able to contact each other through an online newsletter for connecting with individuals with a similar taste in music. I could have signed up for the "find your love" one, but I decided to try out this. Receiving letters is one of the most exciting things ever. In letters, you end up expressing way more than what you would express through text. It is deep, moving and wholesome. All those little details. When your fingers trace through the words the other person has written , the smell of the ink, the feel of the light paper between your fingertips. It is a majestic experience.

He was just a normal person. So normal. A bit funny. There was a little intellectual connection. A lot of sexual tension. And the emotional intimacy we felt for each other was quite surprising for him.

"It has been a long time since I felt this way for someone" he told me. And this was during the first week of April. My ego and inner romantic soul felt validated. I am that special someone to a heartbroken man. Will I be the one to heal him? The one to bring him out of his darkness? Over a span of seven days, the two of us got to know a lot about each other. We send letters, the size of college essays. Detailing almost anything we wanted to talk about.

The first week of April was sweet, short and peaceful. I never anticipated a storm coming. A storm in my heart, him being the dark clouds, the rain and the wind. I assumed he was sunlight. We never see it coming. There was nothing about him that fascinated me. He was just so normal. Good looking , intelligence of the average person, and wrote simple words. Like Murakami. Short sentences. Small paragraphs. Lots of details left up to the imagination. That was it, I think. I did not anticipate how my life would change over the next couple of months. All I had to do was stay home, do chores, paint, write and keep in touch with a lot of my friends spread over in different parts of the country.

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