The weather has changed. It changes once in a while when you are waiting for a gleam at the Horizon. "how does it feel to wait?" S.J. asks to the clouds? "You don't wait, you go on, disperse , gather again, and pour out." She asks again, this time to the howling wind, "how does it feel to wait? wait for unknown?" Winds dont wait either. They run wild, where ever they want. They decide the course. " But then who would tell me, how does it feel to wait? And how do you wait? " S.J. looks around. It is not pleasant. When there shall be the heat of Summer , Dark Clouds are hovering like an ill omen. The heat is there, then why the illusion of soothing rains? " I am tired. But I am dreaming of something, I will tell you what. There will be a day when I will tell you, I am not afraid of love. There will be a day when I will leave the door ajar, so that you can come and see me unfolding my mirror. There will be a day when I will call you from our little window and we will watch an old movie together. There will be a day when we would watch our kids growing and when we would wonder how the life would have been without each other. "
Red-green-yellow. Lights. Lights off. Silence. The night and owl stories. Lust. Loneliness. He called up. Late in the night and remained silent until he could sleep. She listened to his silence and the monster who wanted to drink blood, not rain. He was not in love. He was honest enough to tell her. She was happy to read him, blindly. The script was being written. She read many... many more.... At times, she prayed to be saved. At times, she got tangled. Then he held her hand, showed her love... She searched for keys. Hastily. Gasping. Pressing. Backspace. DEL. Esc.
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