Her hand lay across the red-and-white checked table.

I didn’t move mine, I let it stay near me, comfortably away from hers. Too many people were around us, and I’ve always been shy. Her chocolate brown eyes don’t meet mine either, they are too busy staring away, at someone else’s.

Our position in the hunt of hearts was similar, trying to catch something that cannot be caught, chasing something that isn’t there, couldn’t be found.

I look down to my hands, cold and lost. Could I move them? Do I have the faith in myself, that they won’t shake, maybe fall down halfway across the table, Could I grab her hand, and hold her gaze, just for fleeting moment, and let my actions speak what I can’t?

Or will my touch make her retreat, go back to what she knows, away from me? Shatter the long-spent friendship with her into a thousand fragments of dreams? Or will she move her hand away, back to herself, by the time I reach her? Will she be there?

My hands were sweat-ridden by now. As if they knew what important task they were supposed to do, of the burden they carried.

Our eyes meet for a fleeting moment. The brown eyes, playful yet warm, bear into mine. Her smile dips, as she turns back again, away from me, and I stare on aimlessly, my pounding heart, lost amongst its own fantasies.

Was the dip deliberate? Or not? Did she mean something? Did we communicate? Was I just labelled as a just another? Someone not worthy of her attention anymore, after all the ups and downs we’ve been through? After the times I’ve almost ruined the bond we ‘ve built up, again and again?

She is oblivious to me. I am a long way away from her, hidden amongst the shadows, inconspicuous. I watch her again, speaking with strangers, the graceful movements and the playful bob of her head, her hair cascading lightly down her shoulders. A laugh escapes her lips, breathing a tune impossible to forget.

She doesn’t know it, she doesn’t hear the tune of my cries. She chases on, unsure of herself, testing the waters, again and again. She doesn’t know half the story.Β  She is lost for someone, the way I am, and she doesn’t know that I know. And in this circumstance, she will only prolong the suffering dwelling in the folds of her heart.

I know, I’m aware of my unwanted presence here. Eyes of faded people follow me, ripping into my thoughts. Could I push them away, ignore the people pulling me down-away from her? Do what I wish to do? Or will I shy away, laugh without meaning to and smile despite not being happy, and only push myself away as I have always done so? Do I have the courage? Could I?

A rosy picture paints itself in my mind. Us two, together. It is possible.

Why not?

I lift my hand up. My stomach is full of butterflies. My body tenses up, its lifting a heavy object, my face torn up in concentration. She is unnaturally away, a hundred miles, even though I remember she was sitting right across. I move my hand, which shakes with nervousness. She moves her hand away, back to the glass and takes a sip, and sees me, the emotions etched on my face, brimming with a thousand questions.

And She solves the puzzle.

Her eyes meet mine, burning with warmth. And this time, they don’t move away. And the smile doesn’t dip, it just becomes wider.

A second passes. Another. And another. And we keep on looking at each other, forgetting the chaotic sea of noise around us, of meaningless people, and fake emotions.

She’s waiting, I realise. She’s waiting for me. She’s waiting for my hand to reach across and slip into hers. Because, as I’d come to know in hindsight, I should’ve taken the chance, because I wasn’t going to get a second one.

I do not move.

And I still do not move as her lips tighten, as she stands up, and leaves.



I don’t know why she’s leaving,

Or where she’s gonna go,

I guess she’s got her reasons

But I just don’t wanna know

Cause For 24 Years
I’ve been living next door to Alice.


81 thoughts on “Alice.

Add yours

    1. I draw on real life experiences while writing, thats the only way I can get myself to write.
      So yes, this true, but in an abstract form πŸ™‚
      I hope you understand what I mean, and Thank You!

      Liked by 3 people

      1. Haha, no, that isnt the case. I’d revised it a number of times, completed it near the end of May, so it came out well enough to not to be cringeworthy.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. I like that interpretation of her actions.
      I think she didn’t wish to stay longer than that. People always are moving across places, mentally and physically.
      Thank you:)

      Liked by 1 person

  1. For some damnable reason, your writing speaks to me personally. Here, I see myself as Alice. I have felt so unreachable for so long, despite the fact that I have a boyfriend and have a few since I felt unreachable. Maybe she is just frightened of a close connection. That’s what I assume. And you’re right. It is very sad for other people and for onlookers. I truly love this piece, Udit.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “She’s waiting for me, I realised”.
      It was I who didn’t move, Alice was there.

      Emotionally unreachable you mean? Well, I do hope you get over that, or try to. Yes, sometimes people are afraid of connecting because they are afraid to lose the connect..

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Let me edit one of my previous sentences: *I have felt so unreachable for so long, despite the fact that I have a boyfriend and have HAD a few since I felt unreachable. Oops.

        Anyway, let me continue onto my response: You are smart. You hit the nail on the head. I am VERY emotionally unreachable, and the fact that people try is wonderful. My boyfriend tries so hard, I realize. And yeah, I’ve been trying to get over my emotional unavailability for years, but it always seems like when I am almost there, it crashes down again. The best thing to do is to get up and try and try again. You know this, though. You’re very smart.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’ve been in your place, I get that. But I just began to trust others more despite lowering expectations.
        Yes, that is the best thing to do, You’ll get there, eventually.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I actually can’t imagine a better ending. I always think it’s better to let the readers imagine for themselves, I guess. This isn’t really a loose end, though, it’s actually quite fitting. Well written! xx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Iknew the ending would involve her leaving when I started to write but I didn’t try to tie up the ‘why’ of her leaving.
      I felt the same with Andrea (Funny how both have a Christian female name starting with A), I didn’t get the ‘why’ there, either.
      But you pointed that out in your posts, and I hadn’t, and it pickled my curiosity, this is what I was trying to say in my last comment. πŸ™‚
      Thank You, Tara.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Ah. Good taste. I restrict that to Pink Floyd in terms of artists, if it counts. I like quite a number of songs of the genre, like this one. I love alternative rock.


      2. PF is brilliant. I only listen to Arabella on repeat. The rest, not much. I like Alex Turner’s singles. I don’t get the AM popularity much, nor do I delve into it, tbh.
        I like the Killers, Pearl jam, breaking benjamin, Nirvana, Goo goo dolls and Poets of the fall. So, yeah, Alt Rock, mainly. You?


      3. AM as in the album or the band as a whole? Either way, I obsess over them. To each his own, i guess. Anyway our playlists should match i think, I listen to the exact same stuff. Plus a lot of mood dependent music, cause sometimes I rap Iggy (sorry not sorry) and sometimes it’s Bach’s symphony 5.


      4. Hahaha, it’s alright, as you say, to each his own.
        I meant the band.
        Playlists are diverse..yeah, there should be several overlaps.


    1. Hm, it was meant to be romantic. I think things have a funny way of ending, sometimes you see them happening from much before and sometimes they happen as you blink.
      Haven’t heard from you for long.


      1. Yeah, just a bit busy to write. But, I do read blogs. I don’t think it was meant to be romantic (or was it?). Conventionally, romance is about kisses, hugs and all those mushy things they say. But this ends even before they realize what they feel for each other. It just turns out as romance in the end, because of the quiet understanding they have. And the little game they got going. “Only tragedies can be romantic.”.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I feel like not a lot of people write from the guy’s point of view as in the one who does the heartbreaking, we only get writing from what’s it’s like to be the one who alsways gets disappointed. So kudos to you for writing from such a point of view. And the story was brilliantly written. Loved the ending.

    Liked by 1 person

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