Oh I love the idea of this love story. A boy, who was lost in his own world, sees a girl and just can’t stop himself looking at her ever since. He hovers around pretending that he is simply there for some reason. Everything in his life takes a backseat. He gets up early to catch her morning face, and he waits for night to see her in moon. He moves around her home hoping that no one notices, yet he walks slowly- God let her know I exist! He doesn't name his feelings, but I know that he has some.
And she stands there. Like the sweetest child of nature. Eyes so lost and smile so beautiful. She also plays her part quite well. No one knows why she stands there, if not just to catch some air. No one can know, and neither they should. The neighborhood is small, and nothing is personal.
A thing like this catches such attention.Who would like that?Or who can afford that?Bad name goes a long way.She can’t allow even the boy to know too. Boys are bad and they make a thing of it. But she loves that he comes by and she finds him sweet. And how much I love the searching eyes of the girl, whenever the boy is late. Although I feel, at times, that he does that purposefully, for he wants to see if he matters. I will tell you something, there is nothing sweeter than the moment when she waits long enough to let him arrive, and leaves just right then. Only to let him know that she waited and she won’t anymore. She is angry and she has a right. How sweet is her innocent anger, and how tender is our boy’s attempts to make it up to her. On such days, People will tell you that he stayed there for hours; he had a feeling that she knew. And in the moon, she comes back there. She knew indeed.
They didn't smile, neither waved. They knew it always and pretended aloof.
They had their words in sound of silence. They had their feelings in passing gazes. Air was sharing some truths of the hearts, when the neighbourhood was lost in their suffocating routines.
I can go on and tell you so much.
But I shall just stop right here.
For I love this love story so much, that I fear, it shall fail.
Perhaps world is far too real.
Or perhaps dew can live only till dawn.
Perhaps stories are better without an end.
Or some beginnings are too soft to live.
Oh! I love the idea of this love story.
And this spirit.
And the innocence that makes you believe in it.