thaaniyangi thalai thaangum
thanmaanam thunai enna?
thaLLaadi thadumaari
thulaindhum povadhenna?
thondi paarumadi !
thaan ennum thee enna?
He had the habit of leaving me small notes and I used to love them. A familiar handwriting, the smell of scented paper, words of warmth and his voice through that.
Only this time, it was different.
The words conveyed what my ears refused to hear. The paper smelt like another woman and shimmered with shades of her mascara.
“Will be late”, it read.
I heard his voice and her smile.
I wished that the habit had left with him.