Its Just A Metaphor

February 5, 2017
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He was just standing there right before the door! Was he a stalker? No! His hands were shaking and if looked up closely, he was trembling wholly!
Fear? Nervous? Anxious?
Who was he?
The questions were likely to flood the minds of each pair of eyes that rested upon this vision on that cold night on the Brooklyn Street.
A guy in a fine dressing but poorly dressed, his peach colored shirt poking out of his brown jacket, and the belt too was hooked in the wrong place and was stashed in the belly barely holding up the blue jeans which straighten down to a pair of grey sneakers where laces could be seen begging for attention. He also wore a black stripped muffler though muffled in the wrong direction. In terms of physique he was quite attractive with a muscular body. A fine jawline which was furrowed by the faze of a black shade. Dark hair with brownish shade, though were a mess right now.
He was quivering there, often he would raise his hand to ring the bell but the wobbling wouldn't let him do so, his eyelashes were drenched, the pair of brown eyes filled up, a drop or so went down his chin.
He paused.
Then by a jolt, cleared off his vision with the sleeves of the jackets and gathered up his wits, hoisted the hands again and kept up to it, slowly it went up,
Knock! Knock!
He did it,  one would thought that the tough part has ended but by his looks he was just as terrified as a deer in clutches of a tiger.
A short while later, a soft voice of a girl called,
Who is it?
His voice acted as a type of some advanced stun gun for the guy who overcame his shaking and froze,
The voice called out again,
Who is it?
This time the door swung opened half and behind the wooden log emerged a gush of dark tuft of hairs resting upon a beautiful face, eyes as clear as water guarded by the grace of eyelashes, proved that the makeup was accessory to her. Her gaze met his, the silence intercepted!
It was as good as dead , the quietness, the only voices that could be heard was the one that of the leaves of the oak tree in the backyard.
"Go away Tony, I don't have time for you anymore!"
The cold winds of that night were amplified through the statement as the girl broke off the silence, the guy shuddered and finally opened his mouth and said,
"But Alice ple-"
"No! I don't want to listen, just go leave me alone" ,intercepted the girl, and turned back.
The guy stood there, motionless and saw the door he tried so hard to get open was shutting again, the only door that he looked up to was going to shut,
"Is it going to end?"
"No, No!"
A spark sparked in his insides he pushed his hand right before the edge of the door and hence the force subsided on his fingers, the girl though looked back but then turned away. She was wearing a light purple full sleeves shirt on some grey jeans skirt. She snapped, "huh! It's useless you know! "
He pushed his way in and with tears in his eyes and dying voice he cried,
"I-I -Iam-Sorrryy.., its my fault "
Some tears dropped from his eyes.
The girl went and fetched a glass from the table and smashed it against the floor, where it tattered into bits she then turned to the glass and said the apologetic tune,
"I am so sorry"
Then she turned back to him and in a rather coldly rhythm said,
"See? Sorry can't mend the shattered pieces and that's the same with the broken heart!"
She turned his face away, leaving Tony to agonize as he saw the glass, he kept staring at it, each piece was stabbing him right in the chest, which he was trying hard to grab.
Then all of a sudden he fell on his knees,
As the tears rolled down his eyes he slowly raised his hand and then began to pick up the tattered pieces, he didn't utter a word and went on picking them up and as he was doing so, the sharp edges of the glass grazed his fingers and palm.
As Alice heard the hissing voice she turned over her head and saw some red, painting the floor,
But Tony kept on gathering the pieces.
She said loudly again in half worried and half scared tune,
Tony did not stop tears flooded out his eyes, he sobbed,
"I know!
"I know, no sorry, no words can fix this broken glass!"
"You are wro-ng! "
"No heart is made of glass Alice, it's just a stupid metaphor!"
"And even if it is made up of it-and if it really has tattered into bits,I'll reshape it- tell me Alice"
He wept like a baby and on the top of his voice with  tears flooding out, he shouted,
Cried Alice as she held Tony's hand and shook her head and said,
"I...don't know ..why too..!"
Their gaze met again, and the crawled into each other arms.
On that winter night the voices of leaves played for quite a long time with the cries of the young maiden and her prince.

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