Can it be true?

Today at a break of the dawn you came knocking at the door. You were there - drenched, anxious and beautiful as always. You hugged me and said something that I now have completely forgotten. All I remember is that you were making a pool of my door mat. Your kohl lined eyes were smudgy and were carrying a promise of togetherness. You came in, walked to my wardrobe and came out wearing my favorite blue shirt. I see you still remember all about this house. You see I too remember things about you and hence I put a pot of water to boil and made a cup full of black filtered coffee. I had thought that one day when we meet again I will be angry at you and hurt you with my sharpest words. But now all I want is to hold your hand and spend a day like that - for you to drink your bitter coffee and me to have the warmth of your hands in mine. Alas, dreams like all things good come to an end. But I don't know why there is a used coffee mug on the table and why is the kettle still warm. 
Were you really here?


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