The third diary

Alas! The four-year journey was drawing to a turbulently calm end. Some were busy piling up clothes inside their suitcases while most of the others were unburdening their hearts by shedding away droplets of nostalgia.

Every morning, the sun lighting up the East sky reminded the students of the limited number of days they have in their hands. The hostel rooms which once used to be covered with dirt and spider webs, were now shrouded in cobwebs of memories.

She took out a diary from her cupboard and started flipping the pages until she found a blank one. She smiled as she knew that only one person was left to fill up her farewell diary, that special one.

Next day, after the Farewell party, she saw that “special person” on the ground. Without giving a second thought, she started walking straight until he noticed her. Both of them smiled coyly at each other.

“Fill this up. May be this is our last…”
He took away the diary from her hand and looked into her eyes.

“Pages may get washed away, good memories won’t.”
A fervent silence pervaded in the ground.
She longed to say “I love you, I do” but all that her quivering lips could afford was “Adieu”.

Finally, that day arrived when the campus witnessed a large number of its residents moving out, yet again.

She kept walking with the crowd,  with a huge trunk in her hand and two diaries filled with “sands of time”.

What about the third diary?

Well, that too was in its right place, where it should have been long ago.

4 Replies to “The third diary”

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