I woke up after a long sleep which was well resting. Today was special.

I met Al today. I thought and lay on my shoulder to face Al and. No Al! No sign of Al. He was not in the bed.

I took a deep breath and went to check the washroom but it was vacant. I ran out to see the lobby but empty. Drawing room, kitchen nowhere. I started to panic.

Where could’ve he gone so early in the morning! I thought to myself. Den! The den is left.

I ran towards the room. My legs tapping loudly against the floor like a Tango dancer. I reach the room with a pounding heart and with my heart in my mouth I twist the knob.

There he was. The room was partially filled with balloons and I saw a million colors. In between all of them was my Al. On the bean bag slumped, a packet of balloon on his chest and a balloon trapped between his fingers still to be knotted. His fingers loosened and the trapped balloon became a spacecraft and flew across the room in irregular and unpredictable patterns.

I laughed at this sight and Al woke up. He checked his wrist watch which he never takes off and places his palms on his face, shy; which made me laugh harder.

“You slept late or woke up early, Al?”, I asked him and sat on him.

“I thought I would surprise you. I was going to hang these next. I thought I will stay up all night and sleep when you’ll be in college. I am sorry.”, he said his hand in mine.

I hug Al as my mind went to the Al I met. Not slept in two days and was saying that he will wake up one more night just to break a personal record. His eyes were perennially swelled and black but he was still always running. My crazy Al.

Thank God I met him.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s