◇ She wasn't my girlfriend
Neither she was my crush.
But in the list of priorities
She always remained the first ◇
◇ He is mature, I'm childish
He is responsible, I'm careless
He is strong, I'm sensitive
Hence proved, its also can be friendship ◇
...
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Rishma's POV :
I put on my long black blazer and slowly walked forward. The weather changed with each passing day.
After only a short distance, my legs began to tremble. Feel the effect of not eating anything.
I didn't feel like eating anything, so I skipped my breakfast and yesterday's dinner. What happened to me? I can't understand it.
I had promised Chris that I would never skip my meals, so I have to eat something
I slowly made my way into town and headed to Agnes's shop for something to eat before passing out on the road. When I try to walk fast I feel very weak inside.
I somehow opened the glass door and sat on a chair near the counter. Agnes is busy typing up a customer's bill. She stopped hitting the keyboard and looked at me, not forgetting to greet the customer. "Hey dear, how are you?" she asked me walking towards me.
"Can I get something to eat? Snacks or something?" I asked in a hoarse voice.
I could not look up at her, I leaned my head on the glass table and looked at my reflection from the corner of my eyes. My eyes are half-closed, my face is very dull, eyes covered with dark circles from lack of sleep, and messy hair.
I closed my eyes completely, I have no energy to think or do anything now.
••••
Someone shook my shoulder, said something in a low or loud voice and woke me up.
I tried my best to raise my head from the table and looked at the man standing in front of me. It's none other than Agnes, holding a bowl. Smoke is coming out of the big pot. She placed the bowl on the table and the aroma of vegetable soup penetrated my nose.
"Are you okay honey? You seem so weak." she asked worriedly.
"I haven't eaten anything since morning, that's why I look so tired." My voice faded as I reached the end.
I scooped up the spoon with my almost dead hand and slowly sipped the hot soup. After about 19 hours or less, the taste of vegetables and spices gave life to my tongue.
"Looks like you haven't eaten in days, not just this morning." She pointed out the truth suspiciously.
I don't want to speak against her or oppose her thoughts.
"You are right."
"How many days ago did you last eat?" she asked seriously and worried.
"I… I had breakfast yesterday. I had lunch before that… I don't remember." I quickly drank the soup.
"Does that mean you haven't eaten properly in a week? What, dear? Where's your husband?" she hummed loudly.
Her last question made me stop to swallow my soup and look at her face.
