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I Hope You Have A Better Today

15. I Hope You Have A Better Today

The ceiling fan's hushed circulation reigned over the dense stillness of the room, amongst the constant, distant buzzing of dutiful crickets, cicadas, and delighted toads from that evening's rains, piercing the quietude in the middle of the night.

A compassed half moon with a soft blur around it; a glut of stars flickering around shone, spreading their shy light across the sky—well visible from the half-open hardwood window of Raghav's room that he liked to shut right after six in the evening fretting mosquitoes—and, that he'd forgotten today, because of his late arrival and all that happened following it.

Flipped on his stomach, folding both of his arms, snugly tucking his fists under his hirsute chin, Raghav's restful face was meeting the warm white wall. His left leg was folded in, the hem of his cotton trousers raised over his bare knee, brushing lightly over the wall's smooth surface. His clean foot touched his other leg that laid straight, over which Himani's long legs were thrown—arched around the back of his shin in a slapdash mesh—keeping up the littlest closeness they could afford while sleeping in comfort.

Raghav shifted in his bed—which was only half-available for him at the moment—tossing to his back, in a mild stir when he felt the warm heft around his legs lift off. Which was followed by a berserk blow hitting his calf—sharp and forceful—making him sit upright, stupefied.

He kept blinking until he got rid of his sleep-hooded vision—to get a hang of what'd happened to him, with the background of mundane noise of the nocturnals.

Next to him, on the layer of crumpled, thin bedspread was Himani, her carelessly twisted loose bun untangled into a mop of curly hair, strewn over the cotton sheets of his spare pillow, her robed back against him and her legs coiled into her in semi-fetal position

Running a palm down his face, Raghav stretched his legs, planting both of his palms on either sides of him, reclining back and wondering if it was a dream. However, there was remnant of the pain in his leg—now, diffuse—reminding him it was not one.

With the feeble light seeping in little brighter than the usual on his face, Raghav fathomed he'd not shut his window. Not wanting to be charged by the mosquitoes and spend the rest of the night scratching the very unscratchable spots like the elbow joint and the gap between the fingers on his toes, Raghav stood up tossing his side of the bedspread—that'd do more than enough as a blanket for Madras nights—to shut the windows and hook them up.

When he'd slipped back into the bed, both of his hands hovered and clasped under his head, careful in not disturbing Himani, her legs unwound, stretching, her toes effectively hitting his legs in a cursory kick—again.

Raghav winced in swift pain and jerked to sit upright, his portion of the bedspread bunched up around his thighs, as he rubbed his calf muscles to ease off. He did not know how long he was awake, simply whiling away time, but when Himani's toe punched his calf again, he decided he'd wake her up and let her know what she was doing in sleep.

Squirming to her side restlessly, he tapped on her shoulder gingerly, calling her in his best, smallest voice, "Himani?"

He waited for a moment to see if she'd respond but she was consumed by heavenly slumber with soft snores escaping her slightly parted lips—not giving a damn about the actions of her killer legs.

Sitting up for better access, Raghav patted on her shoulder again, gently. Careful in not making her jump in sleep. "Himani... you're kicking me in sleep... Himani."

"I swear to god, Raghav, you wake me up one more time, I'd kick you out of the bed," was all he got, in her hoarse, groggy voice with a swat of his tapping fingers.