He remembered their first kiss, his first. Yet after all these years, for the life of him he could not remember how it was. Was it wet, sloppy, sensual, deep… All he knew was that he was considerably excited. He came up for air a couple of times but every single time it felt as if he was taking a deeper plunge. He did not want to rise from the abyss-like depths.
They had been in a relationship for quite some time. Both of them had come through some tough times, looking back it was always she who comforted. There was always an acceptance issue with the family as well as the society. She was a social pariah and while as a youngster he had revolted against the foolish beliefs and customs. Although as he matured he started to cave into the societal pressure. He had finally cutoff all contact with her for six months and when they incidentally met at a common friend’s party they again hit it off like they had never been apart. There had been several heavy petting sessions. This time though he thought they were too taxing on him.
The joy and pleasure of being reunited soon faded as he realized that she was more demanding, he had not noticed it earlier but now he did. He immediately realized that their relationship was not meant to be. They would have to say their goodbyes soon enough. He knew it was going to be hard. Very hard. He knew the time had come when he felt that twinge of pain as they kissed. It was as if she was sucking life out of him. This was the first time he admitted to himself that she might be trying to kill him. It was a scary thought, but like always he thought that he had enough love to last them both.
It was a bright Thursday morning when they shared their last kiss which became the kiss of death. She had finally killed him.
The paramedics found her lying next to his lifeless body in an ash-tray.
[A story like this could be written in only two situations; post-coital stupor or an aftereffect of watching Dev D; more on Dev D to follow…]