One Plate, Two Idiots

We met in the noisy canteen, trays clattering, laughter spilling over your easy smile broke the ice, and suddenly we were talking non-stop, like we had known each other forever. Auto rides home became our ritual sharing earphones, secrets, and silly dreams, while the evening sun painted the sky gold. Chilli potato was our iconic dish spicy, hot, shared from one plate fingers greasy, hearts light laughing till our stomachs hurt. We stared at girls together whispering judgments and jokes, two idiots in the same wavelength, best friends without saying the word. But sometimes even the best bonds crack a word misspoken, a silence too loud, misunderstanding grew like shadows at dusk, and today… we broke. I miss the old talks, the effortless flow, the way we could say anything, or nothing at all. I want to message like before, hear your voice on the auto ride again, share one more plate of chilli potato. But the words feel stuck in my throat, pride and pain holding them back. Maybe time will heal this small fracture, or maybe I need to be brave enough to speak first. Till then, I’ll hold the memories close canteen laughs, auto bumps, spicy bites, and the boy who felt like home in college. I hope we find our way back.❤