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I thought I won’t notice her disappearance, but I did. Her blog lay unattended, her Facebook status obsolete and her phone switched off.
Was she sick?
Was she busy?
Was she on a holiday?
No! Actually, she was dead. She conveyed this piece of information to me through telepathy, just before her soul vacated her body.
Yes, telepathy exists. It always has between the two of us.
Perhaps, she was born with some power she herself wasn’t aware of. Her mind always knew where to mind mine. They connected despite the distance in geography, she from Mumbai, me from Calcutta.
Now, her grave rests in Mumbai.
Yet distance has lost its power. Now we belong to the same world. My 17th century grave rots in Calcutta.
Sharing my world with her should have come as a joy. But no, I feel lost; I am devastated; I miss her terribly. In her life and in my death, we were conjoined together by some psychic thread. But now that thread has snapped.
Telepathy works no more.
[This story has been penned for a contest run by Namrota Mazumdar at her blog post