Umbilical cord

.
She sits beside him, dusts the place she thinks his face must be with her hand. She covers her head with her pink dupatta, and as she reads the Fateha, she feels the engraved marble, moving her fingers along the ridges of the letters. Nine years. Almost nine years have passed.

She looks and she looks at the stone. D.O.D. 23rd October, 2000. She feels numb, lifeless... almost like the man beneath that stone. The man she slept next to for many, many years of her life; the man who used to grab her in his arms and toss her up into the air; the man who enjoyed cooking gajar-ka-halwa in the microwave; the man who followed her patiently around and around the dining table with her plate of baby-food; the man who blew smoke rings into the air so she'd chase it as it floated higher and higher until it became unreachabe...

Unreachable. And yet so connected. She whispers a prayer and lays her cheek down on the cold stone. She closes her eyes and sees his face next to her's. She feels a tear sliding down her nose, senses his goodness around her, feels the warmth of his blood flowing through her veins.

She has had a bond with this man since before her birth. She will continue to be connected to him till after her death.