Eclipsed

It's been four years since he last spoke to her. Four years.
That's how long it takes to graduate from college.
That's how long it takes for February 29 to come back around, and that's how long it takes for us to experience a total solar eclipse.

He'd like to think that it has been four years because they have just lost touch, like it happens when people grow old, move away and become busy with their careers. He'd like to think that she has moved far away, to a sunny state, for a job or may be even a Masters. He'd like to think that she is so terribly busy with the long hours and the beaches and the hikes she loved so much that she has no time to pick up the phone and call him. He'd like to think that she is really happy. That she has found a man who adores her, she has already moved in with him in an artist's studio apartment with white brick walls, and spectacular views of the city. He'd like to think that she has made new friends, and she goes out every weekend, gets drunk and then spends the Sundays hungover, so obviously she's been unable to call him over the weekends.

He'd even like to think that she is really angry with him. Perhaps over a silly little thing he did back in the day. Or perhaps because he really hurt her. Because he is an awful, terrible human being whom she completely despises. He'd like to think that she refuses to speak to him again. He can live with that.

He'd like to think that she is not dead. She is pissed off, busy, far away, happy, angry, moved-on, does-not-care-for-me-anymore, but not dead.

In the memory of adorable angel (1986-2006)
- scribed on 11th July 2010