She can see herself…she can see her running shoes…feel her shoes bouncing off the metaled road that runs through the woods …the road..curving…rising…falling….the deodar trees that seem to be disappearing in the sky…the orange morning sunshine scattering through the branches and the needles…the sky changing its shade every minute….the still thin cold mountain air…she’s running fast now…and she can hear the pounding of her heart above the music through her headphones....and then suddenly she’s back…
The air is cold because the Boss just turned up the cooling…
She’s in the office…a place where everyday her necrophobic dreams plead her to runaway and never come back.
People work here…People keep calling people for work and numbers are dialed on speaker phones…the phones keep ringing….most days the caller tunes make the office sound like some trash radio station..

She works in a telecom company…and she hates phones. It wasn’t like that from the start..but today..don’t know why , she doesn’t like them anymore.
May be she’s been waiting too long for a phone call that she knows is never going to come…may be the phone just reminds her too much of him….his voice…her laughter ...the bad singing in the mornings ..and the sounds of his breathing while he fell asleep talking to her sometimes..
She hates it all today…the messages have replaced letters …and conversations have reduced to sms chat’s…she wishes she had been born in an earlier time, a time before the phones and the internet.
The mails, the messages, the six hour long phone conversations were nothing short of real art ….and today nothing remains of them.
May be if they had been something more tangible…if they had been on paper…if they had been more real…in flesh and sound …more life in them…may be then she would still remember them more vividly…may then she could feel them even when they are gone…may be then deleting them wouldn’t have be so easy and permanent as a click of a mouse or a compression on the keypad or touch on the screen of a phone..
Love and art..neither had survived. ..what disturbs her is that she feels bad for the lost art…not the lost love…may be she is a terrible human being …may be love and art is the same for her.
May be she should change her phone…but there’s no point …she already feels like throwing it away or running it under a wheel….and buying a new one won’t change the way she feels…and just in case if someday she actually flings it away…she’d rather be flinging a cheaper model…she laughs at herself…okay half a smile…but that’s not bad to start with.