The Bonsai and other short stories by “I”- The Forks and Knives. Part 4
Dining tables with the forks and knives have always been my spies. Plates lay passively, mute, but the cutlery were always talkative and eager to tell the stories of their users. Centuries after centuries, eras after eras, nothing had changed. The habitat had evolved, eating habits, clothes, family size had shrunk but the basic instincts of love, hatred, forgivingness, mercilessness, betrayal, trust had remained unchanged.
The couple was using paper plates with plastic cutlery. Plastic did not speak to me. They were unnatural, unlike metal. I had to find another way to find out how I could help. What did I actually know about the couple.
They liked making love in bed. They liked experimenting. I saw them try out various postures, some made them laugh, some made them ache and some sent them in throes of ecstasy. As they were sleeping in different rooms and avoiding each other it would be difficult for them to be intimate. They used to love cooking but now they entered and left their home at different times, having their meals on their own. So that option was out too. I racked my brains. The woman slept with a small light on by the floor of her bed. The subdued light was nothing in comparison to my
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I looked at them sedately, knowing that time could not be rushed, healing could not be rushed. Smiles, laughter, hugs and kisses soon filled up the apartment. The table outside on the balcony was pristine. My friends the knives and forks were content with their lives. They were kept in the kitchen clean and warm and only taken out when meals were served. The kitchen became alive with home cooked food and the corners of the apartment housed plants and herbs. New pieces of furniture appeared as the old ones were discarded. The whole apartment was renovated and the second bedroom, tiny and compact was being prepared