He streteched his legs and rested them on the wall of the balcony. A golden winter dust filtered through the dense foliage of the old tree and formed an elegant pattern on his black track pants. He squinted at the pattern. His eyes focused on the tiny specks of illuminated dust while his mind sought to sort out the various thoughts raging inside his mind.
It did not feel like a Sunday.
He felt as tired as on any regular day. Last night had barely brought him any sleep. His mind felt battered and worn out. He seemed unable to shake off the cruel shackles of work. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He did not want to think about work.
He missed her.
He missed her nonsensical chatter. He missed the way her lips would curl in a mischievous smile. He missed the way she would rest her elbows on the pillow and narrate yet another wonderful brainstorm, passion lighting her eyes with an excited glow. He missed the way she would feel in his arms; seeking comfort in his protective embrace and parting a calm of her own. It was so very easy to forget all about stress and strain and drown himself in her magical world.
He shook his head in attempt to shake off the despair which hung heavy about him. His ears picked up the muffled footsteps of his household help as he ushered in tray loaded with warm tea and breakfast onto the balcony. He watched in amazement as the boy lifted a steaming mug of coffee and placed it beside his chai.
"Coffee?" he asked frowning.
"Madam arrived last night," the boy informed him. "She did not want to disturb you so she slept in the guest room. She said she would have breakfast with you."
She was here?!
As if on cue she appeared in the doorway. He smiled at her. He loved the way she looked in the mornings. Her tossled curls framed her face in an adroable disarray. She wriggled her toes and lifted one elegant hand to rub the sleep off her eyes. She leafed through the scattered newspapers and picked up the page she was looking for.
She sat on his lap and snuggled into his chest. All despairing thoughts scattered into the faint cold breeze and floated away to some far away place. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on her forehead. She spread the paper before her and picked up a pen from the table.
He sat there, content to be staring at her while she frowned at the paper and chewed on the back of her pen. She looked up confusion clouding her intoxicating eyes.
"A three letter word for perfect?"