Swaying

The minutes crawl by as I sit here watching the march of hands circle by towards what remains of a yesterday that is a day that's meant to be special, a day that's 'mine', a day as they unhesitatingly proclaims is meant to be 'great'.

But I'm just here at the end of what is an extremely ordinary day punctuated only by intermittent buzzes of well-wishes and reminders of good-willed wishers parting with formalities only because the marvels of technology have now allowed us to 'not-forget'.

Amidst the doodle on the board, the random scribblings of cliche and vacuous greetings, delivered by those once-a-year greeters who remember your existence only because of electronic reminders (and spout further of how it's 'been a long while'), I inch closer to search for a familiar name, a familiar voice that I miss dearly.

But I see none, I hear none. And though the tears have stopped rolling and the pain has eased, I still hope. Hoping that you'd remember, that you'd still remember. Because I do.

Because I still love you.