She was scared.

She had known love, in a way only a few do. She had felt it soar through every nerve ending, through every synapse-through her soul. She had felt it mess with her head, making her giddy, making her smile at the stupidest, most random moments, making her want to sing and fly. She had felt the tingles in her fingertips, the turmoil in her tummy, the funny feeling in her legs – she had felt it till her toes.

She knew how it felt to wake up in the morning with a smile on her face. She knew what the sun-lovers meant when they said they wanted to stay in the sun all day. She understood what the rain-heads meant when they saw the first dark cloud roll in to the sky. She recognized what the winter- lovers felt when the first snow-flake landed on their nose. She appreciated happiness. She personified happiness. She was happiness.

The whole day went about skipping, and smiling. There was no stopping the rush that was in her blood stream. She had known no high like that of love. The stability of his chest when she would rest her head against it; The complete stillness that took over her entirety when she would lose herself in his arms; The knowledge of no harm as long as he embraced her; The melody of his heartbeats; The symphony that their hearts created when they would beat together- in unison; She knew. She lived. She loved.

The way his touch would awaken feelings she didn’t know she could have felt, the emotions that would rise and swell up in her chest when she saw him smile, the uncontrollable urge to protect him from the world, the absolute stubbornness to take care of him, the delight in being taken care of, the bliss his voice would provide, the sparks that would light up their nights- she comprehended love. Her love. Their love.

She loved with her heart, with her soul, with her all. She loved him to bits, she loved him till the fall.

Now, there is no him. And thus, there is no she. She is, of course, as of course, is he. There is no they, and there is no them.  There is no rush, no tingles are underwent. There is a void, and in that is knowledge. The knowledge of pain, of loneliness, of falling. There is no dancing, there is no symphony. There are empty tunes that fill her room, but nothing gives her company.

Days pass by, and she continues to not forget. She continues to fight the sadness, the hurt, the barrenness. The nights are filled with sleepless dreams, the mornings begin with beads of uneasy sweat. The heart that once sang and pranced, now, it only bled. There was an impulse, a strong, throbbing impulse- to run- to run away and never return. But how could she leave? It was her home. She would avoid going out. But that was no way to live. So she did. She stepped out in the Sun she once knew well, and turned away, no recognition was felt. She hid under her dusty umbrella when the radio droned about dark clouds- her old friends. She walked with her eyes down, she walked fast. She didn’t know it- she was running from her past.

She saw him sometimes, and she knew, he saw her too. She never could encompass the ineptness, the lack of warmth that filled the distance between them. She did not understand why she felt the way she did. She did not know. And for the first time, she knew what not knowing felt like. She didn’t understand it. The misery, the anger, the frustration- she did not understand what she felt. She did not know. Till one day she realized.

She was scared.