Ghosts of You.
You left yesterday. Flew back to your country of current residence while I stayed in mine and thought about how ironic it is to be born from you and yet live continents apart.
You left, but you also forgot some things behind, like that T-shirt I got you, which you told me was your favourite. Also, the handwritten card you wrote for my birthday, which is still months away, telling me how proud of me you are (yes, I already read it). And of course, the extra food you cooked, and the watermelon slices you cut, telling me to eat them in these next few days when I'm missing you.
When am I not missing you?
You left your scent in my bedsheets. You left echoes of your laugher bouncing off my walls. You left trails of your souls walking through my hallways. Your souls are so far away now, and it is so quiet without you. Fragments of you still linger.
I miss you. Please come back soon.
Dedicated to my Amma and Baba.
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