She had her ways.

He sat there in silence. Like a storm had just kissed him. He was less silent more still. His eyes spoke a story which his dry lips could never narrate. His hair seemed rough and scattered. That was never his style. There was an open  book on the table, of which the wind generously blew away the pages.

His silence now started to trouble her. And she asked the obvious. He looked at her and then looked away. She was at her patient best. She went in and came back with some coffee. He looked at her again only to look away.

While she placed one mug on the table and held the other. She looked concerned. He then dug himself into the book lying on the table and stopped by a page.

He looked at her. She looked back attentively. He put before her a line written by his beloved. He found that book years after her death. The lines read,"for every time you lay in silence, remember I will come to you in the warmth of that sunlight. And if it ain't sunny, remember me as a beam in that sparkling night."

They both sat quiet starring at the sky. It was a sunny day and after a while he said," those were her last words for me, and I find them today, on a sunny afternoon so bright". She knew not what to say. She could feel his pain. She gave him a warm hug.

When he tried to embrace it he found himself alone in the balcony. He then in a deep voice said,"and she had her strange ways".