Fluid Dynamics

The sea breeze seeps in through the netting on my door, slowly condensing around my drink. The drops avalanche into beads, inching towards my coaster with reptilian precision and threatening to weld my glass to the coaster in the unholiest of matrimonies. I do what I must as a good friend - separate my friend, the glass, from the coaster before they make a wetness fueled mistake. I draw him closer to my lips and drop some sage advice into his depths receiving the barest minimum of beverage in return as favor . In a few seconds however, he longs to return to the messiness and wetness of his doomed relationship. After all, the heart wants what it wants. I let him go. It's his life to live, his mistake to make . And the beads begin to snake toward the coaster again.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

With the satisfaction of having done my perfunctory best, I set finger to keyboard. And the letters refuse to escape my fingers. Why do they stick so? Reluctant preschoolers to their mother's pallus. Rafi's voice to my viscera. Raja's interludes to my innards. Eventually my brain, paternal influence that he is, decides to intercede and convince my heart to let go. "These umbilical cords need to be cut" he says to her. "They’ll be in good hands". "But what if they can't handle it" she says in an imploring manner. After all the heart wants what it wants. "There are more where they came from honey" he replies with a naughty smile. Embarassed and half convinced she shakes the letters lose as only a half hearted heart can. And they leave through my fingers slowly. Here a drop. There a drop. Slowly forming miniature puddles. Puddles that ache for rivulets to issue forth and expeditiously carry them to consummation at the sea. But for now...

Drip... Drip... Drip...