His heart was racing; the blood coursing through his veins, warm as it was, seemed to have a life of its own. Gurgling with the infectious optimism that was floating through the misty air, he sat there, by her side (careful to keep a safe distance from her, wanting to get closer). Her presence seemed to brighten up his days, talking to her lightened the burden on his shoulders, and her dreams painted a riot of colors in his nights. He was in love; of that there was no doubt. Head over heels, truly madly deeply, in every clichéd, weather beaten, utterly inexplicable way one could be in love.
Her heart was pounding; goose pimples encrusted her exposed arm, accentuating her senses. Sensing a tension of sorts floating through the misty air, she sat there, by his side (careful to keep a safe distance from him, fighting off her temptations). He was smart, mature too, a little foolish and very adamant (Well, at least sometimes). His humor was questionable but it made her laugh anyway. He was a romantic and she, a skeptic. But she could not understand, as hard as she tried, the bizarre feelings raising their heads within her that evening.
“A walk!” he said to her. “Or a movie?” he asked, and without waiting for her reply, promptly decided on the movie. There was a slight drizzle and the air was cold. Dark clouds adorned the evening sky and the sun (not to be seen) was on its way down. A walk would have been a wonderful thing to do but his heart told him otherwise. A soft, romantic movie, with a happy ending seemed far more appealing to him than the walk. Besides they could go for the walk even after the movie and that seemed like the icing on the cake to him.
“A walk…!!? “ she quipped. “Movie…!!?” she yelped. She wanted to suggest that she’d love to go for a ride on his bike but she reserved her opinion, trusting his instincts. Let the romantic set the evening up was her way of looking at it. The ride would have been a wonderful thing to do, but now that he had decided on the movie, it did not seem so bad. “Which one?” she asked. A romantic movie raised a bit of an alarm inside her, but she liked happy endings, so she ignored the blaring, beeping alarms and agreed to it.
They sat on the couch, a little distance from each other. He, gurgling with optimism, cheerful and eccentric and she, upright, tensed, slightly reserved. His joyfulness clouded his thoughts and he failed to notice his unusually quiet friend. She was glad he didn’t notice. The thought of telling him what she did not understand herself confounded her. So she did the one thing she knew and that was to focus all her energies on the movie. Laughing when the actors laughed, feeling an overwhelming sadness when they cried (but not cry herself) and feeling every emotion they felt, until she found herself staring back at her through the colored screen. The movie was his idea but he found himself to be constantly distracted, seeing the innocence of her laugh, feeling the depth in her sadness. He sat beside her, feeling her every emotion and utterly ignorant of the storm that was raging inside her.
For inexplicable reasons, she found her hand, almost involuntarily inching towards his, she felt her grip tightening around his and she was moving closer to him, pulling his arm around her, leaning onto him, resting her head against his chest. Her heart was pounding and the echoes of it resonated from every pore in her body and yet an almost eerie sense of calm was spreading through every muscle and every bone in her body. She fought for long and hard to protect herself, to lookout for her bereaved heart and in all this she had forgotten what it was to feel the comfort and the solace, a loving embrace could provide. In that moment, she did not know if she was in love, or if she wanted to be in love but she made her peace with her past and a tiny drop of tear trickled down her cheek.
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