Red

By Srishti Yadav

His nose is what made me notice him. It is what attracted me to him. His nose is on the smallish side, but it is perfectly straight and is a little pointed, but not too sharp. Flawless, to my eyes.

And it thrills me to know that he, and his nose, are now mine. Every line on his palm, every freckle on his face, every vein visible on his arm-- all mine. I had never given myself the liberty to imagine that someone like him could belong to someone like me. Even though it has happened now, I feel like it is a dream, that it cannot be tangible and that it is too good to be true.

I watch him sleep, and I look at his nose. I feel like reaching out and touching it, but I stop myself. And then, a sudden stray thought invades my mind: everyone can see his nose. But now that he is mine , is his nose for people to see?

The old clock beside the beds ticks on merrily. I pick it up and caress it. It is time for him to leave for work. I raise the clock as the alarm lets out its shrill whistle and ram it into his pretty nose.

I guessed that would do the trick.