“Puppppy”, she goes, randomly during a walk on the street. “I should take my phone out and record this”, I think, every time. I noticed after the first few days that I intentionally let go of her hand only when she sees a dog on the street. I’m attentive of course, checking for cars while
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“Telepathy”, she said. “Probability”, I thought. She tried to explain to me how and when she fell in love with me. I pretended to understand, hoping she won’t notice. Now, drowning in her love— I refuse to believe it’s probability. I want to move towards her, fiercely, in every aspect of my existence. I did
“I envy the cigarette,” she said. I chuckled, thinking, “I’ve written so much about cigarettes; why didn’t I think of that before?” I was 14 years old, vividly remembering not inhaling the first puff, my friends laughing at me. I envy them too. I envy that I shared with them what I wished I shared
I sit in the sun, reminiscing about her voice. “Bunny,” she said. “Yes, my luv,” I replied, eager to know what she would say next. “Bunny, that’s it.” “Perfect,” I replied amusingly. Let alone now, it has always been a problem for me throughout my life if someone doesn’t call me by my name. I