Yet.

The last time I saw her she was going up the stairs to the second floor where the others were  already waiting for her. I was sitting at the floor of the stairs, staring on the wall in front of me; waiting for her. She came. I got up to greet her, she shook my hand, gave the forced smile and then climbed up the stairs. I stood there, my hand stationary in mid air just as she had left it. I was baffled. Dazed. I had been waiting for her for an hour sweating in the scorching heat of June and yet she just walked away. Hitherto she had always known what my gestures meant but this time she did not say she understood. 

I needed to hear her voice, to hear her say that she cared. To see that tacit expression of hers that made my existence seem real. 

I stared at her as she silently walked away, her hair moving behind her as she climbed the stairs.Those were the longest ten seconds of my life. I stood there in confusion, forgetting that I was at the edge of one of the steps. As she reached the the second floor, she stopped there and turned and looked back at me. She was sad. Her face said it. She held out a paper in her hand, wrote something on it and folded it. She looked back at me one last time and then disappeared. 

Later that evening, a man came to my house. "I was asked to deliver this to you." It was an envelope. "May I get you something?" "No, no,"he said, "I should be going."And he left.

The envelope had a note inside it. It said;

"I'm sorry. And yes, I understand."