For yellow dresses and grey..

{She was sure the flowery yellow dress would help brighten her sunken face. But it wouldn't lend any lusture to her desolate eyes. Perhaps a dab of rouge? Or copious amounts of "lash strong" mascara?

Although, that always made her lashes too stiff. Impossible to blink without snapping them into half.

Her contemplations were living and dying several deaths in her head when Her walked in with a big bag of cheetos. In her defence, Cheetos was what the world needed to stay calm. She believed it's the stuff Her smoked before eating Cheetos, that made all the difference.

Any which way, Her stood in the hallway, staring at She and the wheels turning in her head.

"Hey".. She heard that faint, raspy voice. She turned to break into a smile that was a product of relentless practice. But Her had seen that smile too many times to know how tired and weak it was. Her raised her brow.

"What?", came the defensive reply of She. "I know what you're doing. It's not gonna work! I'm not thinking about anything."

And now Her smiled her mysterious smile. This one, She knew well too. It was the smile Her smiled when she asked a question, knowing fully well it's answer.

"Actually", begun Her non-chalantly, "I wasn't gonna ask 'what' you were thinking about. It was more along the lines of who."

She took a deep breath and wore a grey dress.} 

For love and somewhat similar..

|You’re going to be the ‘other woman’. You’ll be the booty call, the 4 am tragedy, the best-friend, the friend zoned, the hated, the one-sided lover, the cross-connection. You’ll be the deserted, the way-too-many-martinis, the off-shoot side kick, the lost little wanderer..
You’ll risk getting royally fucked because you thought it was real. You will fuck someone over because it wasn’t real enough for you. You’ll be the awkward one, the seductress, the lonely nights on a crumpled sheet..
And if you’re really, really lucky.. you’ll be the one.

For mists and memories..

{She looked out her window to see the sun throwing a bleak tantrum to stay for a few more minutes. It was that one moment which one would normally miss but for a reason beyond reasoning, she happened to have caught it today. 
The moment stuck between dusk and dark. The silence stuck between truth and lie. The relation stuck between friend and lover. 
And she whispered to the sun, 'It's alright now. We're all travelling through the mist of time. Sometimes we get stuck finding each other, other times we find what we need to.'
And the sun melted into it's shimmering counter-part dancing on the fragile main.}

For window sills and lost romance..

{She sat on the windowsill, looking at the little droplets of drizzle slapping the window. She smiled wistfully as she waited for them to swell to their healthier forms, besmirching the window with definite tenacity. 
But that's not what was making it rain inside her head. It was His thought. It was the thought of curled toes and hot tea and fleeting kisses. 
And it was the thought of her one time best-friend. Of long drives and polaroid pictures.
She touched the glass. It's cold, foggy feeling made her shiver.
Her sat on the table, roaring away angrily on the phone. 
"No, I will not hold any longer! This is fucking ridiculous. I've been online for 20 fucking minutes. Can you count? TWENTY!"
Her verbal jostle continued as she watched She, sitting and smiling and reminiscing. 
Her slammed the phone down and looked at She.
"He wasn't the one."
She sat up and gave Her an empty look. The kind She did to the neighbours when they asked her to babysit. 
"Yea, you heard me. He wasn't the ONE. Neither will it kill you if he doesn't come back. And that 'friend' of yours really wasn't forever."
Her's speech was slowly making an appearance on She's face as it turned pink. 
"No ones dying, no ones dead. You have a fucking apartment with a french window where you can rest your ass and think about these people. Do you know what that means?"
No, She did not know what it meant. But She was aware of the retort gathering at the root of her mouth that she was anxious to spit out. "It means you could maybe mind your own business and let me be?"
Her just stared back. "The bills are my business. And you haven't paid them. So who am I getting the money from? The ONE or the FRIEND?"
She heard Her voice in her head. And She knew the rain had died down.}

For forgotten friends and music boxes..

{She dusted the old music box her then best friend had given her, and for the life of all things holy she couldn't remember the name of the person she willingly shared her childhood with.
"Most definitely started with N.. or not.", she twisted her face and the music box to look for inscriptions or whatever the heart of a 7 year would have left on it to remember them by. 
"Ahaa!", she had found it. A little glimmer of hope. Hope, apparently, came in the form of "H & Nutty forvrr". A dainty smile, dipped in nostalgia, tickled the edge of her lips as she slowly repeated, "Nutty.. That was a ridiculous name." Indeed, the name was ridiculous. Given to her because she was found nibbling on almonds, on occasions more than one. 
"H? Fuck, I don't remember at all." The realization came crashing down on her like a house of cards. Just enough to crush her spirit, but do no fatal harm. 
"I don't remember you H, but I think I'm gonna call you Home."
She had read it on someone's cubicle above the picture of their bitter half, in her drab, grey office - “For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.”}

For love and stationary..

{"She: <sniffing> When I'm sad I buy stationary.
Her: What sense does that make?
She: <looks down> I don't know...
Her: Ummm.. I mean, why stationary?
She: Because it's stationary. They probably call it that cause it won't change on you. And it's nice to you. It's almost like chocolate, only you can't eat it. But it makes things nice and organized and colorful, just the way I like it.
Her: Oh my god. You're in love with paperclips and scissors. No wonder real relationships never make the cut. get it? CUT??
She: Real clever. Thank god you didn't say 'pun intended'."}

For the unaccounted sighs..

{"No more of that damned sting. No more of this love business!", she said to no one in particular. One could also make a rather razor-sharp point that no one could respond to her, owing to the simple fact that her vicinity happened to be inhabited by but a host of torn photographs, none of which were enchanted. 
As a breeze cajoled the lopsided window and carefully tip-toed it's way in, her hair received the treatment most actresses do facing the larger than life electric fan. Or so it played in her head. And out of the gorgeously lop-sided window stood a gorgeous man with a lop-sided smile. Though he looked completely smitten and secure in his relationship with the chocolate tart, nestling beautifully in his hand, she had done the inevitable.. again. She had sighed. 
Thus, the damned sting was well on it's way to making a fabulous return.}