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Unforgotten yet left behind !
#WritcoStoryPrompt84
In the corners of your mind, there are smiles and memories that you cannot just leave behind, that you cannot just forget. Pen a story about it.
The plane hummed softly as Meera leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the cabin lights casting faint shadows on her face. She wore a simple white T-shirt tucked into her jeans, her hair tied back loosely, and her eyes fixed on the small screen in front of her. But she wasn’t watching the movie; it was just a blur of colors. Her thoughts were somewhere far away, drifting over fields of green and the winding roads of a village she once called home.
She glanced out of the window. The endless expanse of clouds seemed like an ocean beneath her, unbroken and vast. It was strange how one could be suspended between two worlds; between the life she had built abroad and the one she had left behind. The quiet hum of the engines faded into the sound of his voice, the memory of a monsoon afternoon when everything between them had unraveled.
The village greeted her with the earthy scent of rain-soaked mud and the chatter of familiar voices. The moment she stepped out of the car in front of her old house, Amma’s arms enveloped her, warm and full of the love she had missed all these years. Meera had changed so much, Amma told her, inspecting her like a fragile artifact. “You’ve grown so thin! What do you eat there, Meera? Air?”
Meera laughed, shaking her head, but as she changed into a simple cotton saree that evening, tying her hair in a loose braid, she caught her reflection in the mirror and paused. The...
In the corners of your mind, there are smiles and memories that you cannot just leave behind, that you cannot just forget. Pen a story about it.
The plane hummed softly as Meera leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the cabin lights casting faint shadows on her face. She wore a simple white T-shirt tucked into her jeans, her hair tied back loosely, and her eyes fixed on the small screen in front of her. But she wasn’t watching the movie; it was just a blur of colors. Her thoughts were somewhere far away, drifting over fields of green and the winding roads of a village she once called home.
She glanced out of the window. The endless expanse of clouds seemed like an ocean beneath her, unbroken and vast. It was strange how one could be suspended between two worlds; between the life she had built abroad and the one she had left behind. The quiet hum of the engines faded into the sound of his voice, the memory of a monsoon afternoon when everything between them had unraveled.
The village greeted her with the earthy scent of rain-soaked mud and the chatter of familiar voices. The moment she stepped out of the car in front of her old house, Amma’s arms enveloped her, warm and full of the love she had missed all these years. Meera had changed so much, Amma told her, inspecting her like a fragile artifact. “You’ve grown so thin! What do you eat there, Meera? Air?”
Meera laughed, shaking her head, but as she changed into a simple cotton saree that evening, tying her hair in a loose braid, she caught her reflection in the mirror and paused. The...
