“Chicken kebabs, please “ . he ordered with a proud grin on his face as I tried to coat my disappointment with a pleasing smile , even though “I hate chicken” screamed in my head .
The other day ,he poured milk into my coffee , oblivious of the fact that I prefer my coffee black , and I managed to dismiss it with the naive logic,“may be, he doesn’t know “ .
It pains me to no end, the” he doesn’t know “.
He doesn’t know how I love pan roasted honey glazed mushrooms, how I prefer a white rose over red , how I like sunsets more than sunrises, how I feel silences could so much speak , how spontaneous moments give me more joy than planned sophisticated days.
Small, insignificant facts, some things that make me ME.
May be someday ,he will earnestly ask ,”I want to know”.