“Who do you resent?”


She looked at me with what I interpreted to be a shade of uncertainty. Maybe she felt like a foreign entity was inside her body, probing deep into the areas that made her uncomfortable.

“You heard me. Who do you resent?”

“I’m not sure why you’re asking me this.”

“Does everything have to have a point?”

She looked away and scoped the room, trying to take in the wannabe glamorous ambience of the café. I guess it’s too bad that they chose to go with the tablecloth that they did.

Her head moved like a rotating turret, stopping only to glance towards the renaissance inspired painting.

I couldn’t tell if she was deep in thought or just uncomfortable. They say that half the love is lost when you think about what the other person is thinking about. I tried to stop analyzing her every move, but I guess I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know more.

Her eyes met mine.

“I don’t think that I do resent anybody.”

There was truth in her eyes. Truth with a glimmer of madness. I’d been trying to get her to reveal that side of herself to me. The only progress that I’d made so far was the scenic view that the windows to her soul offered me.

“Who do you resent?” She retorted.

The toughest questions to answer are always the ones that you end up asking other people, and not yourself.

“Does resentment mean feeling like punching somebody in the face?”

“I guess not.”

She drew her attention to the slight fold in the tablecloth and smoothed it with her black nails. She knew that black is one of my favourite colours. Did she wear that black nail-polish thinking about how it would please me just like I wore this blue formal shirt to try and please her?

“What is it then?”

“Hmmm. I think resentment means disliking somebody  because they don’t meet your expectations.”

The slice of pastry finally arrived. Unfortunately, it had a marzipan filling. I didn’t quite expect that.

I guess you could say that the only thing I resented that day was that slice of pastry.

Deep down though, I already knew who I would grow to resent because of these far-fetched expectations that had blossomed deep in some void in my body.


About Banda Mann Singh Lamba

I'm here to create art in the form of words. Come, take a dip in my day dreams.
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