Lavender

I found her. Her blue petite top beckoned as her slender fingers curled around Jung's Animus - a rare masterpiece in the isolated city library. Her sparkling eyes made my heart fly like a vagabond kite hoping to eventually anchor itself. 

I shivered as I sat across her. She did not look up. Her delicate cheeks and generous lips boasted of many admirers. As she turned the page, her nail polish tinged in lavender stared back. 

I remember how she used to hate nail polish; that it was a very 'girl' thing. She had been ambitious, aggressive just like 'men.'

She smiled as she continued reading. Her face radiated a peace and warmed up the room. I could not help smiling too. 

I got up and walked to the exit. As I left the building, I saw an elderly woman throwing something into a bin. I peered inside. It was a mask tinged in lavender.

Amit Saraf