The following extract comes from my upcoming novel, The Untarnished Beauty of the Unbridled Soul. After four glorious months, Rapshaldeo has decided to end his passionate relationship with Miranda. She was the one, she is the one, but, unfortunately, she won't be the one, and there's only one way this is going to end.
Through a crowded street on a fine day, the two lovers drifted hand-in-hand aimlessly. Though their digits were finely knitted together, Rapshaldeo's grip was looser than usual; his light touch contrasted with the heavy feeling on his shoulders. Several bodies brushed finely by them, hurriedly rushing amid the sprawling mess of people. And what a fine mess Rapshaldeo was going to make. The lovers were parted occasionally by more urgent pedestrians, and when they were finally rejoined, they continued their silent conversation. It took some time for them to reach the fine pillars of the park gate; you can afford to take your time when you are going nowhere.
Rapshaldeo led her into the park, and she almost resisted, slowing to draw the fine strands of hair from her face. Something was wrong. His gait, his fine kisses on her hairline, the slight hint of doubt in his voice. When dealing with a man who lives his life like an actor on a grand stage, there is a fine line between true affection and forced affectation. She also knew, though she refused to face it, that he could only act for so long and the fine sands of time were sifting steadily through the hour-glass of their relationship. The hour-glass of her body, clad finely and enchantingly in her floral dress, attracted the glare of the brute lions sunning themselves on the grass. Rapshaldeo felt a pang at the thought of her in the grip of another, unwrapping her fine finery, and covetously exploring the fine balance of voluptuousness and firmness that comprised her body. He supposed he would find many other fine women, in his futile attempt to fill the void left by Miranda's absence. He would romance them with fine wines, exclusive hotel suites, theatre dates, and intricate sex games. Nearly every day, since he was seventeen, the languorous eyes of women had admired what a fine young man he still is, and the more loquacious among them would brazenly declare, "He's so fine!"
Their feet tread lightly over the fine blades of grass towards the large pond at the centre. The sadness of their steps paced themselves with a fine gentleness, as neither wanted to disclose the dramatic reality that they were sharing inside. On the outside, they were but an ordinary couple, two people having a fine time in each other's company; few people had the perception to see that their love was hanging on by a fine thread. Some kinds of sadness and uncertainty need to be expressed; others are better left concealed. There are feelings which possess a fine character, and there are those to which nobody wishes to give credence or a voice.
The news would not be fine music to her ears. What a fine time to tell her — right before her twenty-fifth birthday. He knew well that he was cutting it too fine to the date. He had to escape; it was imperative. The mystery had dissipated, like a fine powder dispersing into the air. He was jaded once more, in the wake of another fine mystery disclosing itself so easily and predictably. Would he ever remain in love with someone? He longed for it, knowing well there was nothing finer. Despair grasped him suddenly, like a fine rope around his throat, and the exigency to fill the void with chat made it all the more pressing. Before meeting Miranda, he had felt that his life was just fine and merely needed some fine-tuning, but now he found himself completely lost. Despite the fine weather and bountiful surroundings, his soul withered inside.
They reached the fine-sized, glistening pond, where they could no longer remain silent and credibly uphold the pretence of being content. Words perfunctorily left their mouths about how lovely and fine the water was. "Look at the swans!"she chirped, maintaining what finesse she could. "So majestic. Their feathers are so fine." Rapshaldeo managed to produce some forced utterances through the fine space between his sorrowed lips. Like all shared experiences, whether they be of a fine quality of not, the pressure to confront the reality of a finished relationship was felt heavily by both partners. He glanced at his finely-tuned watch nervously, immediately apologising. "The car's quite a bit away, and I don't want to pay a fine."
"We paid for two hours.", she replied with a hardly contained shrillness. "It's fine."
They both could hear the heavy ticking of every second that passed, fine hands moving closer to the inevitable deadline. They stood as silhouettes against the glistening lake, and a passerby could say, for the first time in several fine months, that they saw only two individuals. In the sudden switch, they crossed a fine line, and Miranda felt abandoned. Hoping to reconnect, she desperately tried a subtle touch, the finest of tentative gestures. As necessary as they seemed at that moment, she loathed herself as she felt the words leave her lips: "Is everything okay?"
Their fine eyes met briefly, before Rapshaldeo took them away hurriedly. Everything around them disappeared, like a fine dust in the breeze, yet they felt they were being broadcast to the world. The miserable sequence had finally commenced, and they resented every fine second that went by. Fine finery fined fines finely. Finely and finally, Rapshadeo said they only thing one can say in such an unfine situation.
"I'm fine."
Through a crowded street on a fine day, the two lovers drifted hand-in-hand aimlessly. Though their digits were finely knitted together, Rapshaldeo's grip was looser than usual; his light touch contrasted with the heavy feeling on his shoulders. Several bodies brushed finely by them, hurriedly rushing amid the sprawling mess of people. And what a fine mess Rapshaldeo was going to make. The lovers were parted occasionally by more urgent pedestrians, and when they were finally rejoined, they continued their silent conversation. It took some time for them to reach the fine pillars of the park gate; you can afford to take your time when you are going nowhere.
Rapshaldeo led her into the park, and she almost resisted, slowing to draw the fine strands of hair from her face. Something was wrong. His gait, his fine kisses on her hairline, the slight hint of doubt in his voice. When dealing with a man who lives his life like an actor on a grand stage, there is a fine line between true affection and forced affectation. She also knew, though she refused to face it, that he could only act for so long and the fine sands of time were sifting steadily through the hour-glass of their relationship. The hour-glass of her body, clad finely and enchantingly in her floral dress, attracted the glare of the brute lions sunning themselves on the grass. Rapshaldeo felt a pang at the thought of her in the grip of another, unwrapping her fine finery, and covetously exploring the fine balance of voluptuousness and firmness that comprised her body. He supposed he would find many other fine women, in his futile attempt to fill the void left by Miranda's absence. He would romance them with fine wines, exclusive hotel suites, theatre dates, and intricate sex games. Nearly every day, since he was seventeen, the languorous eyes of women had admired what a fine young man he still is, and the more loquacious among them would brazenly declare, "He's so fine!"
Their feet tread lightly over the fine blades of grass towards the large pond at the centre. The sadness of their steps paced themselves with a fine gentleness, as neither wanted to disclose the dramatic reality that they were sharing inside. On the outside, they were but an ordinary couple, two people having a fine time in each other's company; few people had the perception to see that their love was hanging on by a fine thread. Some kinds of sadness and uncertainty need to be expressed; others are better left concealed. There are feelings which possess a fine character, and there are those to which nobody wishes to give credence or a voice.
The news would not be fine music to her ears. What a fine time to tell her — right before her twenty-fifth birthday. He knew well that he was cutting it too fine to the date. He had to escape; it was imperative. The mystery had dissipated, like a fine powder dispersing into the air. He was jaded once more, in the wake of another fine mystery disclosing itself so easily and predictably. Would he ever remain in love with someone? He longed for it, knowing well there was nothing finer. Despair grasped him suddenly, like a fine rope around his throat, and the exigency to fill the void with chat made it all the more pressing. Before meeting Miranda, he had felt that his life was just fine and merely needed some fine-tuning, but now he found himself completely lost. Despite the fine weather and bountiful surroundings, his soul withered inside.
They reached the fine-sized, glistening pond, where they could no longer remain silent and credibly uphold the pretence of being content. Words perfunctorily left their mouths about how lovely and fine the water was. "Look at the swans!"she chirped, maintaining what finesse she could. "So majestic. Their feathers are so fine." Rapshaldeo managed to produce some forced utterances through the fine space between his sorrowed lips. Like all shared experiences, whether they be of a fine quality of not, the pressure to confront the reality of a finished relationship was felt heavily by both partners. He glanced at his finely-tuned watch nervously, immediately apologising. "The car's quite a bit away, and I don't want to pay a fine."
"We paid for two hours.", she replied with a hardly contained shrillness. "It's fine."
They both could hear the heavy ticking of every second that passed, fine hands moving closer to the inevitable deadline. They stood as silhouettes against the glistening lake, and a passerby could say, for the first time in several fine months, that they saw only two individuals. In the sudden switch, they crossed a fine line, and Miranda felt abandoned. Hoping to reconnect, she desperately tried a subtle touch, the finest of tentative gestures. As necessary as they seemed at that moment, she loathed herself as she felt the words leave her lips: "Is everything okay?"
Their fine eyes met briefly, before Rapshaldeo took them away hurriedly. Everything around them disappeared, like a fine dust in the breeze, yet they felt they were being broadcast to the world. The miserable sequence had finally commenced, and they resented every fine second that went by. Fine finery fined fines finely. Finely and finally, Rapshadeo said they only thing one can say in such an unfine situation.
"I'm fine."
 |
| "Fine, then." |
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