Sympathetic Magic

                                       Sympathetic Magic 

      

     She was playing with him. He carried his sister on his legs. He chortled every time as he winded her to and fro through the cold air. The littlest angel in the heaven was giggling as her weightless body was all up, on the balance of his knee. She dropped herself and fell on his stomach laughing with her randomly sized teeth. He tickled her. The laugh of the bean echoed. Her baby teeth let her giggle be as important as to be recorded in a box full of hearts. The next day, they grew up.

     They fought over a remote. She hit that growing body. He hit her back. She whimpered and let him get an earful from their parents for the mistake he had not done. He boiled and never talked to her. Her little hands touched his and she asked for forgiveness and looked into his eyes. He threatened her that his fist would soon be on that face of hers. The little creature of his complained that he was not talking. She went over to him again and kept calling him until he couldn’t control his laughter. The girl chuckled and it was like rain to the driest of the driest lands. The next day, they grew up.

     He was running through the corridors to escape from her. The mini form of troublesome was chasing him. She caught him and held him by his collar. He lifted her and pushed her away as he started to bolt towards the sofa. The girl shouted at him and chased him again. The couch let some distance apart them which was soon covered. She seized his shirt and soon created haste by rolling on the floor with him and then she called out, “Game over!”  The next day, they grew up.

     He studied. The boy was no longer playing with her. The little girl was no longer the same naughty little dangerous creature. He had a flask of tea stored for him every time he studied late night. His books were in his captivity now. He stopped talking to everyone near him. He studied and only studied. His marks arrived. The house glistened with joy. The next day, they grew up.

     The music played, to his ears. The earphones were ruling him. The light of the phone reflected on his face. That light was disguising itself as the light he himself had. The light she could give him. Those eyes were busy enough not to love her.

     Those hands were not there to hold her anymore. His back was not there to carry her anymore. The corridors were not filled with their cries anymore. The couch could not see them play anymore. The cold air could not hear their hilarity anymore. They could not see any half broken remotes anymore. Their lives couldn’t see themselves anymore.

They did not know what the destiny has in store for them anymore now.

…

They were not “them” anymore.

And so, they grew up.