“”I had never seen such beautiful eyes before. Rose, you stole my heart the first time we met”. Standing quietly in the library, I saw her for the first time when she sneezed like a horse and scared almost half of the people. Some even dropped their books. She smiled apologetically at everyone, turning red and redder as she turned her head from one person to another. Finally she turned towards me and I could not help my reaction. I turned away my head quickly to muffle the laughter that had more or less already escaped my mouth. I wished she hadn’t heard it. Thinking of apologizing I turned around and got a mini heart attack, she was standing right beside me.

“NO WAYS! Are you the writer of this book?! This is YOUR picture right?!” she had almost shoved the book’s last page in my face.

“I cannot see clearly like this” I had replied feeling a little embarrassed. That was the first time I had actually met a reader of my book, before that, I was convinced that I was a flop.

“Oh I am sorry. Here” she had said backing of slightly. More than the book, I could now see her excited face clearly. I remember every detail as if this happened yesterday. She had a cute face… and that was it. It was strange actually. Even though I am a writer and even though she had so much more than just a cute face that was the first time I was actually out of words. Turning my gaze to the book, I nodded when and confirmed it that that was certainly my picture.

Rose and I became friends that day. Both I and she liked the library and we used to come there every day…”

I felt myself drift off peacefully. I finally remembered. Rose. I still loved her so much that even now I felt like I could faintly smell the fruity shampoo’s fragrance from her head like I did before whenever I hugged her. The accident was not recent. It happened a long time ago. Rose left me. If only I had listened to her that time, then things could have been different. When the doctors explained my condition to me, even though I was disoriented, yet I remembered every detail clearly. A surgery was needed to save me. Immediately I was rushed to the operation theatre. Later they told me that even though the injury would heal, I had a graver problem. I had a brain tumor. I could not believe it.

“But I have never had any seizures or anything as such before” I persisted, but the truth could not be changed. I was told that due to the complexity of the placement of the tumor, I would fall into a state of dementia regardless of a surgery, the only good that a surgery could do was prolong my life. I opted for the surgery, I had to complete the book for Rose. But I realized that I could no longer write about her. It was my fault that she was in a coma, I had no right to talk about her and so I had made that diary entry before the surgery.

After that my life took an even more drastic turn. On the day after my surgery, Rose went into a sudden cardiac arrest and died. My condition was not meant to deteriorate so quickly, but the moment I heard the news and saw her lying lifeless on the hospital bed, I lost my mind. I wonder if that was the actual day when I became like this. The rest of the days are just a blur in my memory, but this is something that I now remember clearly.

“How long have I been like this?” I asked the nurse in a dragging voice. Somehow I could not keep my eyes open any longer. Moreover, I was afraid to know the answer. I could hear the mumbling of the nurse the whole time. She was probably still reading out that book to me.

“… Two years…” I could seldom make out what she might have said. Gradually I slipped into a fog, a deep dark fog, till I could no longer hear her voice anymore.

                                                                                                . . .

Dementia. Surely you would have guessed about this correctly by now, even before Ballet mentioned it. While listening to the story Ballet silently fell asleep so now it is my job to finish his story… at least for the day. Two years ago he and his beloved Rose got into a terrible accident, it was around this time that he had started writing his book. On the night of the accident, the skies were anxious and the wind was relentless. They were on a highway driving swiftly through slippery mountainous roads which led to their destination. They were late for a friend’s party. “Drive slow…” Rose had muttered under her breath for she feared the raging winds outside. These are the times when one must be at their utmost guard, but yet again these are the times when men are blinded by desire. Even though the weather’s rotten mood was cleanly visible, yet they carried on swiftly without a care. What happened next could have happened to anyone; a tree had fallen on the road just around a sharp turn and the car did not have enough time to stop.

Ballet must have put in all his pressure on the brakes, but it was too late. Gushing through the wind, the car hydro plated sideways and crashed into the tree.

The side which crashed was where Rose was sitting. Of course, she fell unconscious immediately, more accurately, she fell into a coma. Ballet survived with what seemed like a safe injury at that time, only to realize that a major part of his brain cells had been damaged in the crash due to a hit on the head. The rest of the story is as he said. But what he doesn’t know is that this is going to happen to him tomorrow as well.

Tomorrow and for the rest of his life, Ballet is going to continues enacting the scenes of this day over and over again. Every day he wakes up, reads the diary, discovers the book and recalls his long lost tale. Can you imagine being stuck in a loop like this and not even being aware about it?

No… certainly you can’t, after all, neither can he.