Bombay Balchao

by Jane Borges

They forgot that they were characters in a novel, not a short story. In this novel, every chapter was connected to the others. And retribution was not too far away.

Time heals the broken. Sometimes, the healing is slow. Sometimes, it is slower. You cannot predict how long it will take before one forgets what it all felt like—heartbreak, the pain, the anguish, and that emptiness. Years could roll by, and you’d have done ten million different things to keep yourself from thinking, and yet, the mind would remember that moment when your life fell apart and crushed you whole.

But what is friendship, if not two people loving each other fiercely and unconditionally.

Life is like that, my baby. The best part cannot be enjoyed whole, or it will become too much for you to digest.’

‘Nothing lasts forever, baby, but it also depends on what your forever is. Is it a day? Is it a month? Is it a year? We make our own forevers.’