You left me like how one abandons a city. All the while yet all of a sudden.
The thought of leaving the city comes much before you actually make the move. But the city is unaware of what’s cooking within your head until you reveal one day. By leaving. Early winter morning, the city wakes up — all groggy and bleary-eyed — to find your furniture packed, numbered and at the gate, carried on the shoulders of those movers and packers whose bread and butter depends on such unannounced departures, on such sudden separations, on you and your slow yet silent falling out of love.
Not everyone loses when you abandon. It’s only the city, the trying-to-become-home city, the city that is too surprised to say anything at the loss. It watches you leave, hoping to see you come back someday, hoping to not remember you then.
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