I dipped the last bite of sandwich in ketchup, painting it all red.

“You don’t have a single etiquette of fine dining,” she roared. I think the couple seated in the cosiest corner must have heard her too, for both of them looked at me and giggled in amusement. I am sure they must have created many similar scenes here, and the giggles were just a gesture of a warm welcome to their club.

“I know,” I said, pretending a sigh.

I signalled to the waiter to clear our table and produce the bill.

“So, you were here just to feed that stomach of yours! All you care is about your food, your milk, your hobbies, your interests, your EVERYTHING!”

Many people now shifted in their seats. A few of them tried their best not to make me conscious. Others on the other hand were straining their neck 180º to get a view. I was a bit angry and a bit sad. I was sad because it was my first date and no one likes to be screamed at, on his debut. I was particularly angry at the mention of ‘my milk’ in public. I have been in love with milk since birth and will be till death. It is one big necessity I can’t live without.

She on the other hand was getting ready for another bout.

“I am sorry,” I said in a low voice trying to sound convincing. The waiter standing with the bill cleared his throat. They take the order from the miss, and bring back the bill statements direct to you. OK! This is how it goes. 

Sush lurched forward to see the bill. I hid it with one hand and took out my wallet with the other. She pricked the back of my hand with her pink-painted fingernails.

“Is that the best you can do?” I challenged her with a grin.

She raised her wrist, fisted a punch and hammered it onto my fingers. I yelped in pain.

“Fuck! What is that?” she said in an alarmed tone.

“Nothing…” I replied trying to cover my blistered fingers.

“Show me, show me…my God! How did you get those?” Sush demanded. She took my blistered fingers and rested them on her palm.

“Do they hurt?” she continued her concern.

“No I am used to having them every now and then,” I replied carelessly. But she wanted an explanation. I told her of my back to back performances on the 14th and 15th and practising for both overnight.

“Show me your other hand, the right one.”

I extended it. Did I have any other option.. 😛

“Haww…this is even worse!”

I jerked both my hands out of her palms. One thing I don’t like is too much of care and concern; it suffocates me. We left the table and moved onto the street. The street was lonely except for a few cars passing by. Sush moved next to me. We walked silently. I was waiting for her to break the silence. I kept mum for 2-3 minutes expecting her to say something. Finding her still silent, I felt that I would have to initiate this time.

“Where have you parked your car?” I questioned.

“Oh! It’s on the other side,” she said, still lost in her thoughts.

“Ok.”

“Do you like star-gazing?” she asked.

“Yes, I do sometimes…one of my friends told me…when we see the moon and stars we are actually watching the past.” I suggested watching the sparkled night sky.

“How?” she said pouting her lips and brushing her curly locks aside.

“See…the light which is reaching us at the moment had been radiated some million light years before.”

“Ooo…yes!”

Both of us were now watching the starry sky, like ten-year-olds. Our eyes skipped from one star to another. The cars had stopped passing by and there was complete silence. Suddenly, I saw her looking at me. She made a sensuous eye contact. I could see the moon’s reflection in her eyes.

“You have the prettiest pair of black eyes I have ever looked into…and I can see myself in them,” she breathed.

I held her hand in my corned one. I could feel the softness of her palm in mine. Her hand was ice-cold due to the chill in the air; mine was warm as ever. A cool breeze started to blow. She crossed her other hand to her shoulder to sheathe it. I had seen this in many movies: the hero often used to swaddle his girlfriend with his jacket. Like a vicarious professional at it, I performed the sensational scene in no time.

“It smells of you…and you smell nice,” Sush said, guiding her hands through the sleeves. The jacket was clearly oversized for her sleek body. It was hanging off at the hands and drooping down at the shoulders.

I didn’t know what to say. After thinking for half a minute, I managed a ‘Thank you’.

“What’s this in your right pocket?” she said taking out chewing gum wrappers and earphones and my diary.

“Ah! I don’t throw toffee wrappers on the road. I throw them somewhere where I am certain that someone will pick them up.”

“And what do you write in this diary?”

“Anything, any thought which comes to mind, any nice quote etc.” I replied.

“Can I read it?” Sush asked. She could not wait to open it.

I don’t know why people are so keen on reading personal memos and diaries. The discovery of others’ secret gives so much pleasure to them.

“Yes but only some parts. There are some things which I won’t like you to read.” I said in a low voice.

“Okay writer! Tell me, should I open it from the front or back?” asked an eager voice.

“Open it, where I have kept the strip-tag,” I directed her.

To be continued…