The Soulful Atom

She sat at the table with a friend. They had ordered some red wine or perhaps some sangria. They seemed to be having a good time, laughing and chatting. They’ve been here for some time now, thought its still the first drink. Maybe they aren’t close friends. Maybe they are getting there. They're probably not friends. The effects of age and/or fatigue are visible on one face. She is trying to be in the moment but there is something eating at her. Perhaps she wanted to be someplace else, not tonight but for most part of her life. Maybe she is bitter now, trying hard not to be, because she isn't inherently so. The other one seems to be happier, bubbly. As if she has got control over her life, made peace with her struggles. She talks happily, animatedly. I don’t understand why she hasn’t taken the bag off her shoulder yet though. It does seem to be weighing down on her, but neither one seems to have noticed that. Maybe she always keeps it on her shoulder, like a constant companion. Maybe it soothes her, lets her know she isn't alone. Holding all of her secrets, all her whims and fancies, all the pieces of her broken heart taped together some unwillingly, some forcibly with tears and grit and sometimes just plain resolve.