I never knew that missing someone could bleed the colour from the sky. I couldn’t have imagined that without her, food wouldn’t taste as good. I’d never have thought I’d stand on the beach at Unawatuna and not want to go swimming. Without her. Not want to walk on the sand, because she wasn’t there. Her hand wasn’t in mine. How is it that I don’t notice that the sunset has changed two shades, from orange to something closer to the colour of her lips? How is it that I don’t feel the touch of the breeze unless it touches her hair first? I haven’t really listened to music in months — it’s just music without her, where before it was something else. An electric connection between us. How can one woman empty my world so completely with her absence, drain it of colour and flavour and life?
And then she’s there, and every single thing that touches my senses changes totally. The setting sun glowers the most intense carmine I’ve ever seen. The Guinness is so cold my teeth ache, its darkness intense. The potato chip she offers me makes my throat shrink with its saltiness. Her eyes are more breathtaking than I remember — how is that possible that I could’ve forgotten those eyes the colour of dark wood, as deep as a well on the edge of the jungle?
She laughs. And my heart races, out of control.
I feel myself falling, as I know I always will. Helpless. Under her spell. Into a world she somehow, incredibly, makes almost as beautiful as herself.