Just like every day, the bell rang at 8 am. I opened the door with least excitement or was I trying to conceal it deep down somewhere, I should show my emotion, at least to her. Because she is the only person who visits me every day. I took the bottle from her hands, looked into her eyes. I saw her lips curving with a smile. I can smell her body odor, That intense smell of sweat telling itself a story, how she woke up at 4 in the morning, cleaned the barn, took the cattle out for grazing, ....and then at the right time squeezing their breast to barter their milk for her bread. I have never talked to her about her family, but I can imagine from her shabby dress and the blue and dark patches on her face that she was trying to cover up -a drunkard father, a bedridden mother, a younger sister whom she loves so dearly and a brother who left long before she could remember his face ..
I felt an urge to hug her, to kiss her on her forehead, but what should she think, " I am a pervert " I returned her bottle, after emptying the milk. I made sure that I touched her fingertips just like every day, and like every day, she didn't move her fingers, I know why she didn't move or startled, this one bottle meant a lot to her, and she won't risk losing it. But that one touch on her fingers meant a lot to me than the inrush of blood to a guy's Organ, It was my way of hugging her to tell that I understand you , I feel your pain, and at least for these two minutes that we see, your brother hasn't gone anywhere else. I hope she too understands it one day.
No comments:
Post a Comment