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  • September 16, 2011

Wheeze. The sweeter sound.  Her friends used to call him a 'crackle'.  But she knew he was not.  And he was not.  Not able to pinpoint but she sensed some familiarity in that small room.  By the time she opened the only window there, her hippocampus did drag her into the college campus.  He was not the first day- first sight to her. To be precise it was day 12.  It was the day she felt that strange feeling she had come across till then only in books. Butterflies in the stomach. It was the day the whole batch was moved to the dissection hall.  It was the day the ultimatum of life was lying naked in front of all. Cadavers.

He stands for the lad.  The lad who sings a line or two before realizing it in a bathroom; who visits temples only to have a feel of his barefoot; who doesn't know how to tie a tie; who likes the way friends lie; He stands for that lad whom she shields.

It was an all girls table with a male cadaver where she stood with a scalpel.  The surging adrenaline and the smell of formalin had already killed the surgeon in her even if there was one.  Upon an open Cunningham, she extended her elbow to make her maiden bloodless incision on an unknown's chest.  And that was when she heard him first. 'Careful, he could be someone's lover'. She could recollect those exact words in the exact tone. It was him. From behind.  Impetuous with incision, the scalpel cut through her gloves.

Bleed. The double 'ee' makes it more sw'ee't.  Again She thought, remembering how he turned her red for the first time.                   
(...will bleed)

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