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Saturday, 19 December 2015

Magician, A Short story by Himanshu Chhabra

“You are a charmer,” she said, curling up under my arm so that my hand rested on her head. She read an abstract from my laptop before concluding this statement.

Before I could give her a response, my mind stopped me to notice the beauty of how we were surrendered with the darkness and how she soaked all the light genesis out of my laptop screen. The light was evident of the intensity with which she was looking at me for the response.

“Magician to be precise,” I finally responded. With no clue why I said that, and what I was supposed to say next. She made herself more comfortable in my hold. And, in that particular marathon of second, I felt the glory of every new cell she touched on my skin and sadness of every cell she untouched. I felt my skin fragmented by the fragrance of her skin.
“I am a magician. Have you seen them doing their tricks? Have you seen how magic works? How they take all your attention to one irrelevant point and do something where your attention isn't. Same goes with me. I will look deep into your eyes, as if I will dig your soul out of them. I will neatly keep all your attention with my eyes. Your eyes quaffing mine and then I will put my palm on your waist. You will think that you got my trick. That I will do something with your waist. You will pretend that all your attention is in my eyes but your mind will secretly follow my moves on your waist. How limited I am with the way I touch you, soft and tranquil. And, I will do nothing. I will just hold you for a while and then move my hand away. You won’t have a clue that your heart isn’t there anymore. I would steal your heart with stillness of my eyes and coldness of my touch. That's how you will know that I am not a charmer but magician.

She smiled.

“I don’t believe you.” She folded my laptop and we were accompanied by complete darkness.

“You don’t believe what?” I asked.

She held my hand and placed it on her waist, “That your hand will land between my second base and the third base and you will pull it away.” She pressed her lips against mine.

She was right. I didn’t pull my hand away. (I won’t tell you where they went. Ummm… Abracadabra, they disappeared.) The magician was amused itself the way he was tricked by his own trick.

-Himanshu Appie Chhabra

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