Footprints

14.2.2012, 8:45am      From a very young age, he'd learned that princesses never married kitchen boys, and he firmly believed that there was no such thing as love. 'Why?' you may ask; because his mother, the purest form of love he had ever known, loved his father, but that love wasn't enough for him. His father truly loved the other woman, but it wasn't enough for her. Both of them loved him, but it just wasn't enough for them to stay together. The only love he knew was the way his mother sang him to sleep, the way he used to bite her cheeks in return, the way they danced in the rain, and the way he lit a candle in memory of her, every February 14th.  Now, as he hugged his grandmother before leaving for school, as far as he could see, the stores on the street were decked in red. From ribbons to curtains, from banners to tiny heart-shaped stickers stuck on huge glass windows, and from gift hampers to chocolate wrappers. 'What is with the whole Valentine's...

 x-x-x  You don’t look her in the eye. Sitting at a table for two, you both are enjoying each other’s company. ‘For the last time?’ you ask yourself. You can’t see through her, you can’t seem to break through that wall she puts around herself anymore. It’s been this way ever since that disinterested-in-this-relationship talk you both had.  “You don’t have to be insecure about it,” you had said.  “But I do, I don’t appreciate the fact that you take out time for things, and then have absolutely none for me when you come back home,” she had nearly shouted at you.  “She needed me today,” you’d tried to say.  “And I don’t?” she’d cut you off.  “As a friend Jay, as a friend,” your voice had cracked.  “Fine, whatever,” she had left the dinner table; her meal untouched.  The pleasant aroma of the sweet cakes, warm coffee and just-out-of-the-oven croissants meant nothing to the either of you now. The Bread World, five minutes from your house had alway...