I looked out of the window at the scenery, buildings and dirt painted upon the still horizon. Mumbai had grown on me, but it remained alien beyond repair. The dull ache inside me weighed me down, nudging me to not move, come back to the bed, engulf myself in darkness and stay in. Everything beyond seemed pointless, worthless, too painful.
In a last desperate attempt, I reached out to the world.
I need something good to happen today.
I trudged through the day, the everyday drudgery swallowing me and engulfing any sparks of happiness that may have remained. At a time when all I needed was a direction and a reason, all I seemed to find were thoughts more depressing than the last.
I reached home, glad the day was over, dreading the one looming ahead.
And there it was, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, waiting, for me. The scrawl on the card next to it made me smile, and cry, all at once.
I hope this qualifies as something good.
She had barely ever met me. Rarely, had we had a conversation. And yet, over the years, we read each other’s blogs, and wondered how we went through time, literally next door, and never met or talked.
And then, one dark day, she decided, to make something good, happen, for me.