'Coffee?' He asked.
'Yes', I replied.
'What after coffee?' He asked.
'Nothing in mind. You say.'
'Let's write.'
'I prefer writing alone. Company distracts me.' I said.
'Okay. I'm going out.' He said and went away. I went to write. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't write anything. Something was missing. He.
I ran after him, couldn't find him though. He went far away. I searched around. He was nowhere to be found. I felt as if I'd lost him.
I came back. I couldn't write a word. He wasn't back. I'd lost him. I waited. Waited desperately for him to return. He didn't return. Days ticked away like seconds.
After three days, I went in search of him, this time determined to catch hold of him and bring him back. I searched for him everywhere. No answer. Disappointed, I started walking back. My thoughts wandered. I was searching him for myself, not because of him. I dragged myself towards my home. He was right there, next to the shimmering light on my door, holding a cup of coffee.
'Where had you been? I've been searching for you all along.' I oppugned.
'I gave you space to write. Let me see what you've written.'
'Oh it's nothing. I couldn't write anything.' I uttered, trying to hide my miserable condition.
'Now stop being modest. I've read it all, what a marvelous piece you've written.' He said.
'Stop mocking me.' I said and snatched the manuscript from his hand. It was complete. Without even me writing it, it was complete. Shell-shocked, I exclaimed, 'How's that possible? Have you written it?'
'No, I am not capable of writing so well. It's you, my friend.'
'I haven't, I know I haven't.' I said.
'Then who wrote it?' He asked.
'Guess, it's our company.' I said.
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'Coffee?' He asked.
'Yes', I replied.
'What after coffee?' He asked.
'Nothing in mind. You say.'
'Let's write.' He said.
'Why not?' I said.
And we wrote, this.
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I call him imagination, he calls me experience. Together and happy, we make magic.
