he cried. . .

She had the most beautiful eyes in the world. Or so he thought. Hey, I would have agreed. It was beautiful. It wasn't all seductive nor it was the cute-kitten eye thing. It were those beautiful eyes. Just plain beautiful. IT had that glow.

But then, there was no glow now. She died in the morning. Accident. They rushed her to the hospital. Doctors did all the last minute things. Setting her up for the new journey. HA!

She was beautiful, from the inside.

He lost it. They didn't have anyone. Just each other. But then now he was alone. He had never cried before. He didn't cry then. He left the hospital and walked towards the Gateway of India. It was close-by.

There were lots of people there. He was totally oblivious to the hullabaloo happening around him. He saw the pigeons. There were a hundred or may be even more. They were feeding on the grain.

He noticed two pigeons. They weren't with the rest of them. They had their own life. They were happy. It was beautiful. It is always beautiful when you have someone.

He didn't have his someone.

He tried to go close to the pigeons to feed them. He held out his hand with some grain on his palm. One of the pigeons started flying. In the blink of an eye, all of them were gone. He sat there while all of them left.

He sat there. On the road. It suddenly hit him. He didn't have anyone in this world. He didn't have his someone. He was alone in this world.

He cried.