She came for walks with me; usually in the later evenings. Quiet, serene walks. Some days she would tell me stories that she told me when she used to put me to sleep. Long went those days! Those stories had something in them. Maybe love?
“Your grandfather loved to take strolls in the evenings. He used to say that there is something about the nights that draws people towards itself.” She said. “Maybe it is nights that inspires people to plunge into their dreams. And dreams, he said, are the best thing that happens to people.” There was an enthusiasm in her voice that I always yearned to listen.
“But then nights take away so much from us that we dearly love.” I protested.
She smiled. “Everything has a price to pay.”
Like everyday, when we come back, she would go back to her place, to where she now resided. Become the photo of the frame.