Untitled 2

When I was little, my mum used to take me to the local market on Sunday evenings. I remember this one evening when we had gone to the fishmonger's and then to buy some stationery. At the shop, somehow, I lost hold of my mum's hand and didn't realize. She didn't either. She happily went off.

I remember standing there, amidst a crowd, trying to look for her hand or hair. I remember giving up. I was found, ten minutes later, my mum visibly distraught. I remember not understanding what the fuss was all about.
For, you see, not for one moment did I think I was in danger. I never doubted my safety. There was this strange strong faith that things had to work out in the end. This was a minor blip. I would be found. Nothing could go wrong. Mum is the superman.

I wish I had the faith now. I think I lost him today. He wears the shirts I picked out for him. He carries the bag I chose for him. He uses my phone. He lives off my love.Its sad to know that he doesn't need me any more.
The sad thing isn't that he doesn't talk to me anymore. The sad thing is that I think he has broken my trust.