The Vexing Question

“Why do you love me?” She blurted out.

They walked around holding hands, with the sun behind their backs. Their footsteps mingled artistically with the texture of the sand. The familiar scent of the beach welcomed them: slightly sulfury, with just a pinch of green, and a briny finish.

She seemed nervous. Constantly countering the wind and removing hair from her face, she was lost in her surreal imaginations. She looked at her carefree face. “How can he be so calm?”

“Why do you love me? It can’t work out between us. You’ll be tied down,” she asked.

He examined her face. The eyes demanded an answer. The pupils contracted, like they used to when she was thinking deep. He sighed.

“I do because I love the way you talk, I love the way you open up to me, I love the feeling of us being together, I love the small things you do, I love your soul and that’s all that matters.”

She was still not convinced. “You know about my scars. People will hate you for this.”

“For once and all I’ll use this for you; I don’t care! Five years down the line, when you’ll wake up next to me, I know I’ll look at you the same way I have done all these years. I’ll stammer and blush and try to propose you, all over again. I’ll make you go mad and then surprise you with my surprises. I’ll listen to your day with the same glee and kiss you goodbye. I’ll fall in love with you, all over again.”

She was taken aback. “But I’m THE Acid Attack victim,” tears rolled down her cheeks, her scars more visible than before.

He held her by the shoulders. “And I want to be Mr. Acid attack,” he said with a determined look on his face.

She smiled ear to ear. She rested her head in his shoulders as they walked, a new dawn welcoming them with open arms.

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