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His and her story

Her life was a bare book, easy to decipher but she had burried layers in each leaf which couldn't be seen. The book went on to become thicker and the layers got merged to form a new leaf which couldn't be read while reading the book.

He always asked her why she chose to hide those layers, why couldn't she be like anyone else, why were she always to be that head strong, all questions remained unanswered for she possibly herself hadn't ever tried to find those answers. She simply wanted to glide and go unnoticed. Rather than a showpiece, she preferred to be a crack in the wall. She preferred to never outgrow what she had always been, an untameable spirit.

What he couldn't understand was how could he not understand her after these many years of being together, how could she choose to ignore his worth when she knew what she meant for him. But, what possibly he didn't understand was her untameable spirit. He was growing weary of her, she knew it since the very first day their friendship blossomed. He possibly couldn't see that as they grew, their friendship somewhere in some point of time had stopped growing. He wanted to treat her as his mirror, whereas she couldn't promise fake reflections. Her indifference suffocated him and he wanted to hurt her but he failed each time miserably and she could see it all. She didn't want him to suffer , neither could she give him false hopes. The only solution was either he could walk away or she would need to disappear.

But she waited, knowing it all along that this possibly could be the day when he would learn to hate her and finally came the day when he decided to end his sufferings, he asked her to disappear, for he possibly couldn't leave her in midst of a veil of tears. It was tough for her, but she was doomed to pay a price, she knew it all along. So, she disappeared but as she disappeared she quietly took away the pixie dust which could light up his life. He stumbled as he tried to master each step but he could no longer look up for her. She was gone and what he possibly held were fragments of a fragmented story.

As he sips his evening tea and allows the rain to wreck hell on him, he can't help but remember her faint fragrance in the rain clad evening. The rest was an illusion, only thing that mattered to him was her, the only thing that possibly couldn't be his was she. 'Irony', smirked his mind; 'love', rattled his adamant heart.

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