I sighed blissfully. I could get used to this. 

The silence, the cosiness- the utter lack of distractions. 

For a second I drifted to the chaos of a while ago. The prodding, the probing, the checking of my every nook and crany. Ugh! Talk about invasion of privacy. I shuddered-  figure of speech, of course, since I couldn’t really shudder. But you know. Mental shudder- at the memory of it. The bright lights. The steel. The whiteness. 

Although, I mused, trying to be honest- and introspective- I truly didn’t mind the whiteness. I have always loved white. So clean, so pure. So refreshing! 

Ah! I thought again. The bliss of solitude. 

I was just drifting off into the horizon of whiteness when I spied a speck of yellow. Smoky yellow. With specks of the palest red and gold. Ethereal. Like the first rays of a rising sun. 

Hmm interesting. 

The yellow speck drifted up, slowly. Cheekily. Like it didn’t want to be seen, but wanted it’s presence felt anyway. It spread. Like sunshine blinding your eyes early in the morning. 

“Hey, lighten up!” I protested. 

Darn it. I wanted my whiteness again. 

The yellow gold- smoke was it? Or maybe smog, pollution and all? I laughed inwardly. Smug in my smog joke. 

The smog shimmered.

“Hey you!” It said in a jolly sort of voice.

“Err..” I was confused. Why was the smog talking?

“What are you? Who are you? Why are you taking away my whiteness?” I demanded, deciding that I needed to be firm and direct. 

The smoke/smog drifted around me, getting closer, its yellowness reaching out to me. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it made me feel good. Safe. Cocooned. 

But no! I wanted my privacy. This was not fair. 

“Go away yellow smog,” I said peevishly. “Leave me alone, I’m trying to have some me time.” 

The smoke sparkled like precious jewels, writhed near my hand, almost clasping it. 

“Us time,” it replied softly. 

I was about to give the damn thing a piece of my mind when suddenly my whiteness was ripped open. 

Ughhhhhh! What does one need to do to get some privacy here!! 

Damn it. I was pissed. 

Then, I saw her. 

Oh. It was her. Her. My heart. 

She reached over, gently caressing me. 

Telling me without words, how much she loved me.

I saw the tears in the eyes I knew so well. 

The yellow smog came back. Drifting around her now. Gently enveloping her. 

Oh. I sighed in understanding. 


“Yellow smoke?”

“Yes?” It whispered. 

“Thank you for doing this with me.” And I truly was grateful. 

“Always. Every time, I am here for you,” it smiled. 

Now I was warm. Cosy again. I had nothing to worry about. I took one last glance at her. I wish I could have told her that it was all ok. She had nothing to worry about. 

The warmth spread. 

I drifted up. Becoming the yellowness. 

Like the sunflowers she loves. 




According to ancient scripts- and what my dad told me years and years ago, when you die, your soul remains nearby. It’s attached to the body it occupied. It stays because it cannot detach itself. Hence, the reason Hindus cremate the dead- to show the soul that the body is gone. You are free too. 

I prefer to think it sticks around for comfort. 

This one is for Hansa. She always said I’d miss her like crazy when she was gone. And I do. 

Also, according to several internet sources, a dead body falls under the definition of an inanimate object. 




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