“Mom why does daddy always come back home with a bottle in his hand?” said the daughter giggling. “And why is he wobbling? Is he playing some game all alone?”
“Yes dear, he is. He brings the bottle because he loves drinking and wobbles around so that you will notice he is here.” Said the mother with a sad smile. She found her daughter’s innocence beautiful and cruel at the same time.
“What does he drink from that bottle mom? Maybe I should also drink it so that we can play together.”
“Oh dear he drinks water from that bottle, but you shouldn’t drink it at all because in the game only one is to drink it not the other. That is why I don’t, didn’t u notice yet?”
“Okay mom, I get it now. But daddy smells so bad too, oh yes, it must be because of the magical water?”
“Yes magical water, the kind that you should never drink.”
“I know mom, its only for one person in the game. I understand.”
The wife tucks her daughter into her bed and kisses her good night. As she leaves the room, she find the innocence so true and pure, one of the pure water from her heart also drops down, it races down from the hurt.
She goes inside the bedroom where she slept every night, with same smell of disrespect, disregard and indifference; and with the same sight of responsibilities so easily forgotten.
The water that always touches the pillow tracing its way obliquely, defying laws of gravity for the heart as it feels heavier than its own mass, falling painfully each night. Oh how she wishes it was water in that bottle and not in her eyes.