Second Innings

Second Innings

She is finally done packing. 

She sits in a corner of her room, exhausted, glancing around at the mess of old clothes, waste paper, full suitcases and empty wardrobes. She has lived in this house with her parents, all her life. Now she is off to a new place, to start a new chapter in her life. 

The suitcases are grumbling. All this stuff is so old! Why does she not leave this junk behind, and begin her new life with new things?

The poor girl is already stressed, don’t go bothering her more. I tell them sternly.

You’re just jealous! They spin their shiny wheels at me. ‘Cause she ain’t taking you! 

Zip it! 

She ignores them, of course. My human is a woman of few words and infinite emotions. 

***

Oh! Where are my manners. Hello, I am Puggsy, The Pillow. 

I came to her as a birthday present. Young and proud was I, and she, a ball of unfettered energy. 

At the age where the night was full of terrors and monsters lived under her bed. How scared she was, and how relieved when she received me. For now, she needn’t be alone. For now, I was her protector! 

Even today, after everyone is asleep, it is I upon whom she lays her sweet head down. It is I, to whom she dictates her dreams, and whispers her worries. It is I, alone, a witness to the outpouring of all the things that she doesn’t say. 

A glorious 10 years of togetherness. 

I am old now. The bluster of my youth is gone. I don’t voice my worries aloud, like the insolent suitcases, but I do wonder if she will take me with her to her new life? Or is it time to say goodbye? 

***

When I wake up the next morning, the smug suitcases are gone. Sunlight streams through the open window, illuminating the refuse of her past life. And there I lie on the old bed, forlorn and forgotten. 

I suppose it’s for the best, eh old friend?

The bed groans in commiseration. We are too old for goodbyes, he says. 

Her mother walks in staring at the emptiness of her nest, surprised at how the absence of a single person can make a place feel abandoned. Her eyes land on me and she smiles. She lies down and on the bed and pulls me close. 

“Oh, Puggsy. She’s really gone.” She whispers, and a lone tear falls from her liquid eyes onto me. 

“She left you for me you know? She said, you need him more than I do. Can you believe it? My little Meenu, talking like a grown up!” 

She shakes her greying head. “I am glad she did though. Puggsy, there are monsters under my bed. Will you protect me?” 

I cannot help but smile. 

Of course I will, my human. I envelop her in my embrace as she breaks down and cries. I will protect you. 
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Monica Singh
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One thought on “Second Innings

  1. A delightful read. I was almost about to pick “pillow” for this quintile. But at the last moment changed my mind. I am sure I wouldn’t have done justice to the role of pillow as well as you have done in your story.

    Very satisfying read and something people can very well relate to.

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