The smell of coconut hair oil and sweat filled the atmosphere. She clamped the door and turned the fan speed to counter the oppressive mass of humidity that had settled. How each sewn mirror on the rajasthani bed-sheet captured the rays of light from the Philips tubelight would be etched in her memory forever.
He drew her closer, his tobacco filled breath overwhelming. The seemingly strong shoulders whose strength she could not gauge broke into hers. His tentative motions made her mind race with uncomparable desire. Flashes of all those moments in such intimacy strengthened her will. She loved herself as she loved him. The times that he drove away into the night, his truck rattling the unpaved roads as it dimmed into the distance always took a part of her away. Never again would it happen. As he buttoned his shirt his face in the partial glow from the beedi in his mouth, she gazed out to the expanse of fields, she would be married the next day. He would never know of her again. It was the last time that she wouldn't be able to tell where she ended and he began.
I love writing stuff like this, its so emotionally charged almost like a Hindi film in a nutshell, man I'm obsessed with theatrics :D
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