of cliques and friendship.

A Short Story

He just sat there, on the bleachers, eyes transfixed on the field. On the track were people playing hockey, and on the field, frisbee. Images eroded into words, and words transcribed into thought. He remained motionless, almost oblivious to the surroundings.

'Come,' she had said, 'and join us for a game of frisbee!' He politely declined, citing reasons of fatigue. Unknowingly, she scurried off, quickly absorbed into the game, enjoying pure sporting fun. Looking on, he noted the dense colours of the school emblem, emblazoned on their clothing. Of red and blue, the oh-so-familiar colours that he grew up with, now seemingly aberrant at sight, even unusual. It was not about the awkwardness that bothered him, but the fact that he felt he wouldn't belong if he were to join the group. He was one who kept mostly to himself, not overtly extroverted, only speaking at times when he needed to, or felt that he should. This appeared to be one of those times where silence reigned supreme as his mind was in a whirl, deep in thought.

The whole scene at present struck him as a case of deja vu. The feeling was immediate, and pretty overwhelming, resulting in his current state of contemplation, his mind trying its best to piece the fragments of the afternoon's events together, just like a jigsaw puzzle. It was as though God was trying to say something to him, and he, indeed, felt a strong conviction to believe its true.

It had been three years.

The wall kept growing, albeit gradually, but the effect was cumulative. It took him till now to realize the weighted impact of that wall. It was the wall between their friendship. Of he and she. A certain she, not the one aforementioned. He met her too, today, which would explain the feeling of deja vu. The feeling of being left out, be it purposefully or unintentionally. Exclusion.

There was some exchange of words. Superficially. There was so much they could have talked about. So much he had to tell her, to catch up, to remember old times. But nothing came out. Much. Under the guise of a perceptibly normal tone of voice in an undeniably casual conversation, he heard the overtones. The dejection, the hint of envy. To him, they were as audible as thunder. But all he could do was sit there, pushing a smile on his face, although genuine, was painful. He listened with patience, sincerely concerned, yet the feeling of helplessness seeped through. And she was gone. There was nothing he could do, at least for that moment.

He walked down memory lane as recalled the times they had together. One particular memory stood out. It was at a chalet. Both of them were doing a crossword puzzle, enjoying each other's company. Another one came just that instant, one of a camp. The subtle joy, the little nuances of love. The glint of hope shimmered away slowly, as it all came to pass. Until now.

It seemed so long ago. The valued friendship began to fade as the clique emerged. Ironically it seemed to him that it happened very slowly, yet days turned to months, and months to years. If only he could turn back time. It was entirely unintentional. He could only stare and wonder. Regret dominated for that fleeting moment, but just like anything else, it was merely a passing phase.

It was time.

He retreated from his pensive mood and looked once again at the field, a smile reappearing on his face, one of joy that emanated from within as he watched a friend enjoying time well spent with other friends. He realized it was time.

Time to leave.

Time to do something about the situation.