Pen and Heart

A Scene:  Pen and Heart 

Adam Taylor 

Tejasri

I hate him. Always. Since the day I saw him. His perfect face card impresses anyone. Especially my Dad. He is quite efficient and responsible. It annoys me that I can never be like him. His presence in my office is too loud. Everyone talks about him.

My Dad raised a proposal this evening to marry Mr. Adam Taylor. I am absolutely boiling with anger because I don't like him, and I am not getting married to him. So, I go straight to him. I know it is unfair, but what is happening to me is also unjust.

He is filling a cup of coffee. He likes Black coffee without sugar. I don't know why I know that.
"Hey," I speak confidently, bold but cruel. He turns the coffee in his hand. He keeps it on the counter and smiles. Dimples on the sides of his cheeks. It frustrates me how much I notice him.

"Hey." I tilt my head a little to the side, a mischievous smile tugging my lips. I place my right hand on the counter, lift my left hand up, and drop the pen I am holding. It lands on the floor smoothly. No loud, but enough for his smile to drop. "Pick it up," I say, keeping my tone flat. I just expect him to pick it up for me and leave. Just his typical move.

But he closes the distance between us like it was never supposed to exist. I glare at him. " If I pick up things that you have dropped, then can you pick my heart, Tejasri?" His tone is smooth, like he can walk me out of a storm if only I let him in. He picks the pen and puts it in my hand and moves away from me. That's when I realised that what I did was absolutely not me. I am angry, that's true, but I am not angry at him. I am angry because...because I was stuck in a helpless situation. The pen rested in my palm, but my chest felt unbearably empty.
I hadn’t dropped an object—I had dropped my anger on the wrong person.
And somehow, he still picked it up.