FranKophone

The eyes searched someone. The one she could run to at times of need. In someone’s lap, she would pour out all her troubles. Nobody came.  She grew up, rimmed her eyes with kohl. But they could never hide her tears. No one came when her soul was ripped apart. No one heard her cries. No one mourned her loss. After  a while, she thought that tears were a part of the eyes.

He looked back. I did not. "A cup of coffee ?" "Some other time." "Some other friend ?" "Kind of." "Good luck." "I have it." A few years ago, this was unthinkable. He was not a stranger then. She was not indifferent then. They both had hearts that beat with  rapture. For each other. They had eyes for each other. And the like. She lost something very precious. He thought of it. At first, he remained the same lover - full of love. With time, love gave way to  sympathy. Then came the terrible moment. Of indifference, of hatred. She realized it and he went away. Not to be back for a  long...really long time. She bore her loss very well. It gave her a new direction of life. She loved being her. Even though she was bereft of her booty. Today  he came back, expecting her to still love him. She did not. A tall man came in front of her. She smiled and looked at him earnestly.

The best gifts are not the most expensive ones. They are the most precious ones.