Noorie had found the love of her life. He was Steve, a handsome six-feet-three Caucasian. And in him she had found herself. Remove the ‘Cauc’ and she was revealed, a pretty five-feet-two Asian.
They had met at university, the nurturing ground for many love stories such as theirs. It was a class of quantum physics that kindled the attraction. He adored her brains. She loved his smile. When they stood together, they oddly looked like father and child.
It wasn’t age but the height difference.
He asked her out to coffee. She said no sugar, he wanted no milk, they sipped from each other’s styrofoam cups. The days went by in morning walks and evening library sessions. She wanted to gaze at the stars, he wanted to bring them to her.
His poetic words made her laugh. Noorie had her heart set on becoming an Astronomy major. Steve chuckled with her. He recognized the strand of humor. His sights stretched towards research and attaining the post of Assistant Professor.
The hot summer turned to autumn and then a freezing, harsh winter. And when spring seemed just around the corner Steve applied for a transfer. He told Noorie that he couldn’t thrive where he was. His ambition couldn’t let him stay put.
Noorie smiled while shedding tears the size of lemons. Steve’s heart trembled at the mesmerizing beauty of mixed emotions. They hugged and kissed and made promises for the present and a better future.
Distance would be a slight bump in the road. A test of their love’s devotion.
The transfer came through. A celebratory party was due. Him and her and two bottles of wine. Steve drank too much, Noorie pretended she did too. And when the axe came down on his legs, Steve had already passed out.
Noorie stood with the blowtorch. She couldn’t let him bleed to death. He was hers forever. Without his legs, where would he go? Disposing of them now the only remaining headache.
He seems quiet and distant. That’s because he’s trying to listen. The Silent Participant hears all that you say.