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''Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there.'' - Rumi
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''Look, Albert had to do that. He had to walk away, because had he stayed, he would have never been able to take the pain of an inevitable separation,'' heaved out Samantha as I looked with stern eyes bowed down in utter disagreement.
''But what about all those promises of eternity? And what about the way Albert always stood up for her against Sarah?'' I screamed out in complete disarray. ''Albert couldn't have left her for the sake of avoiding pain, because wherever there is love, pain is elementary. Life could have well been generous enough to give them a second chance,'' I added in a rush.
''Look the thing you need to accept is that they were not meant to be, just like the burning sun and the calm moon, crawling from the same blanket of clouds, reflecting the same light of belonging, and still knowing, that they will never be able to meet, never be one,'' said Samantha in a low tone, as she shut the pages of her copy of 'The Forsaken'.
''I don't agree with you,'' I mumbled, though her words had shut me up with a hammer.
I gave a mixed look to the glossy brown cover of 'The forsaken' and read along a few words inscribed deep onto the paper.
''Falling together is destiny, Falling apart is choice, and truth is always reversed.'''
''Oh, now come on Jack, you need to accept the fact that the book ended this way,'' spoke out Samantha with a witty playful smile that did enough to expose her rabbit molars to the peeping sunshine.
''Uhum, Okay,'' I spoke to myself as I looked at Samantha once again.
Those long locks of blonde hair, straightened up to slender shoulders made for a curtain like screen that blocked out my sight as she bent down to pick up the box filled with her favorite marbles. My eyes still managed to peek through my nerd glasses, and swam deep into those hazel eyes, which spoke of an ethereal delight. Those two rabbit molars were like windows to the world, and made up for the tiny, cherry like nose which was always in love with flu.
The orange top looked pretty decent on her slender frame, with the graphics being neither too flary, nor too subdued, subtle enough to complement her favorite ripped blue jeans which she never washed, or delightfully said so.
''Want to play the 'pick a marble' game?'' she said out of excitement, sweeping me straight out of the canvas my brain had been liberating upon.
I had known the marble game ever since I had known Samantha, and for the mathematics in my head, it had to be since I was nine years of age, or eight years down the lane.
The marble game was simple, and yet as tricky as it had been her invention. For the rules, one had to fish out exactly two spoons full of marbles from the box, blindfolded.
And well, it didn't end there.
The number of marbles we got entitled us to form a sentence having exactly the same number of marbles, or words to be a bit too straight.
The winner had to be the one who spoke the last sentence to the empty box.
Even before I could nod for an agreement, Samantha had blindfolded me tight with a black kerchief that choked me for an instant while with a very unpleasant smell. I dug out two spoons in haste, and untied the kerchief as fast as I could to gather my breath.
