Anyways, next day, we had to leave for our honeymoon and probably then I would have the pleasure of Sudhir. The whole of next day went by visiting my home, as ritual and that night, we boarded our train to a distant hill station. It was a night train and being in public place, there was not much that we could do that night. Three nights had passed and not even one condom was used, whereas Sangeeta told me that I would require full one pack of 24 everyday!!!During the train journey I saw a bunch of young males with toned up body eying me in a very peculiar way. I ignored them, but every now and then I felt that they were spying on us. But rejected the thought that like any other males they are just enjoying my beauty from a distance. We reached our destination next day morning. The bunch of males were no where in sight. I felt relieved. We checked in a hotel in the outskirts of the town. I was expecting Sudhir to take me in his arms as soon as we entered the privacy of our room, but he. The fire now brightly flared. I grabbed two, four … oh, yeah, one more of the resin filled logs and built a pyre – this is a good image, I muse, does a dead love deserve a sad funereal pyre? I carefully stack them, center them over the ring now hidden … but not forgotten. The heat was high now. A rhythm. A pattern. One log. Swig some scotch (such a beautiful word that, swig – to heartily, greedily even, take a big drink). Yes, I like that. Log, swig, log, swig. A nice rhythm going now. The fire a crucible for the ring as those hated D-I-V-O-R-C-E papers had proved a crucible of my love. The embers are alive! No ash covered logs now … a roaring, powerful heat pushing me back. A swig. Now the embers are coming to me. One here, on the hearthstone. One there – yes, that’s on the carpet. The carpet glows – marches towards me with an evil glee. Another swig? Yes the last. The bottle thrown at the burning carpet, one bounce, two – the count so carefully noted – the bottle crashes. The noise.
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