I tell my mind that it's over, but then I see your Insta stories and I force myself not to click. I do. It opens, after circling for a while, like the blood whirling inside my heart waiting to skip a beat. There are mountains, rain, trees. You are travelling. Moving on, quite literally.

I tap, increase the volume of the video of the windy valley, hear you hum, smile and tap again. Last photo is of your hand, shivering in the Himalayan cold. The spaces between those fingers haunt me. I wish I could reach out through the screen to fill them. To fill me. You were always fond of magic, and the physics graduate in me of teleportation. I cannot. I can replay those stories, however.

I play your stories on repeat. For 24 hours. Until they self-destruct. I follow suit soon after, reminding myself once again that it's over.

- हर्ष स्नेहांशु