Dusting

dustingShe called and said, “Enough, mom I can’t take it anymore. I can’t stay with him anymore.”

She kept the phone. Dragged herself to the kitchen, with heavy eyes started to drink some water.

She slowly moved to the sitting area with a cloth duster in her hand.
She was dusting away the dust from the surface of the things- big and small, expensive and cheap. She was dusting away the experiences of her life- happy and sad, painful and cheerful.

The husband was back. The house looked perfect. She did a wonderful job. The objects were shining as the surface looked clean. She seemed normal as she had dusted away all the feelings of pain, anger and unhappiness.

In a while, everything will catch dust and the cleaning will have to be done…again.

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