It was a saturday eve, when outta boredom, I went out for a round of walk. The sun was buried behind the clouds in a way that no Sun but only the clouds existed. It was misty. It seemed that only I dared to challenge the winter. For the first time, I loved the emptiness on the way. When I looked at the grey never-ending curved roads through the fog, for a while, I felt that those led to heaven on the other side of white beautiful haze. The trees on the sides of road looked greener, after the dew washed their leaves, and the ones that fell from their parent tree were wet and seemed to be breathing once again. At intervals, cold winds blew, causing me and the fog to shiver and the miasma danced on the rhythm of the winds. No, I did not dance, I simply shivered clutching my shawl tighter than before and adjusting the hairs under my woolen cap.
The picturesque surrounding kept me walking until I saw a fellow, a few meters away from me in the fog. I tried to look clearly into the haze. My mind dashed an alert, ‘you should stay away from strangers.’ I deserted the alert at the other second and went closer. I could see a tall guy, around my age, dressed in blue denim and plain black jacket. He had a wide bosom. He had muffled his head and neck in a way that only the part above the his lips, of the face were visible. A few strands of his hairs hovered around his forehead periodically with the winds. His truthful eyes went curious when they met mine. His eyebrows were pulled together and his spectacles moved a bit upward as he tried to look at me and then back to normal as if, mine, was a familiar face. He, then unwrapped his muffler and I could see his pale-golden face. I knew him!
I saw the miasma parting away and felt a strange warmth in the chilly evening, the warmth of his presence. He gazed at me standing a foot away. It was an unusual gaze, in a way that it bound my eyes to look at him without twinkling. His visage shone to every movement of his nerves. The winter imparted a reddish shade to his pale-golden nose. A tiny smile, to the left, spread on his face. I, too, smiled in-turn in a pink-ish way. He came a step closer to me and took my hand in his. His hands were as warm as his presence. He adjusted his long fingers between my smaller ones, pulled my hand and held it tightly. The solemn evening appeared charming as ever. For that moment, everything vaporized within the hazy winter.
“Hey! It’s getting late. Lets walk to home.” A familiar voice disrupted my fairy tale from far behind. I turned about to the call shifting my gaze which he had hypnotized. “Dad?” I said in a surprise. “What? Whom were you expecting?” he said as he came closer. My heart sank thinking of the aftermath of the encounter that was going to happen between my dad and him. “Dad.. he is..” I turned to him for an introduction session but, POOFFFFF! he was nowhere! “He? Who? You are fine, right?” Dad asked looking at me, worried. “No.. I mean yes..” I once looked at my father and then to the place where he stood and then again. And, again. Nothing except the fog existed. My father blinked to my strange actions and then, pulled me towards home. “I think you are not well, see, I told you to stay inside. It’s very cold out.” He said adjusting my shawl and then the cap. He kept on advising all through the way and I kept on checking the way back, where I was with him a few moments ago; into nothingness. The warmth was gone and I felt the cold winds once again.