With a heavy heart, she held the black shirt for one last time. Its smooth fabric, fine print and the angelic look it gave her when it adorned her slim body. She saw it, apparently for the last time. She knelt and kept it in the box that was meant for donations to the poor. She turned away and walked back to her room.
The shirt was a piece of not only cloth but also her soul. That was one of her lover’s most favourite shirts. He complimented her day and night whenever she wore it. Somewhere, their love blossomed from that shirt. She fell into a trance, recalling the memories attached to the dress that was now gone.
It began two and a half years back. He texted her, “You looked beautiful, amazing and hot in that black shirt.” The lucidity melted her. She wore it quite often. Whenever she did, he could not stop staring her. He’d simply open her tied hair and ask her to smile. That was the magic of the shirt.
A week before his birthday, they celebrated Beautiful Black Day when they both wore black shirts.
Few months later, at a time when he’d lost all hope, she’d hugged him for the very first time- as though the shirt transmitted all her hope to him. He felt better.
Almost six months later, the day she’d worn this shirt, they shared their first kiss. Amateur, yet so perfect. Clean. Smooth.
Whenever she wore it, she could not stop missing him. It was agonizing in a way and pleasing in another.
It was gone now, leaving behind some of her most secret memories. Neither the memories nor the days would return.
She returned to her wardrobe. On top of her pile of clothes, lay neatly folded a top, pink with polka dots. She froze for a moment. This was the dress she wore the day they confessed their love to each other for the very first time. She had also worn this dress during one of their most intimate encounters.
She took it out and folded it. She turned towards the door. She had barely walked a few steps when she retreated. She could not muster the courage to part from it. Once again, she folded it and put it in her bag. She would carry it home and treasure it forever, never bringing it back to this madhouse.