I thought it had been me, but it could not have! A day passed, and then another but I could not find it anywhere. It stressed me out as I turned my entire room upside down. Someone had taken it, but who? How did they find it? It was not possible. I had everything sorted!
I could not afford someone else getting their hands on it. The mere thought brought a shiver down my spine. I had it hidden away neatly, away from any suspicion. It was given to me a long while ago and I had a responsibility towards it. It had proof, it would trace right back to me – the stain, the color, and the hair strands stuck to it.
I had chased the garbage truck in a futile hope that it would still be in my vicinity to no avail. I returned home and cautiously asked ‘Where is it?’ I was desperate. My future was flashing before my eyes – and I did not look forward to it.
The response was calm, in a rather unsurprised tone – ‘It is right where you left it.’
With sweaty palms and on the verge of a meltdown, I ran upstairs and flung open my wardrobe, throwing everything out. I was hoping to find it at the bottom of the pit, and after hours of throwing open drawers and flicking iron nails out of the way, there it was.
Sitting meekly at the back – dyed black with the stain still prominently on its front – it was safe. I carefully lifted it and placed it on the pile of the slightly differentiated shades of my black t-shirts – collected over the years. It was complete again, and in its rightful place, to match with everything I own – especially my spirit.