#5

I was dripping wet but i’d never felt more comfortable. Never felt more happy. Sitting crossed-legged on the muddy ground, I listened to the rythm of the rain falling down. So noisy yet so soothing. His shoulder kept brushing against mine. And each time it did, I remembered the fireworks which I’d seen two years back during the Independence Day show. Such beautiful fireworks.

He was staring at the rain too. That same penetrating stare. Glancing at his face sideways, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he appreciating the music of the raindrops? Or wondering what he would be having for dinner? I’d have given anything to know what was going on behind that blank stare.

Then he turned and looked at me. His eyes piercing through mine and looking at my soul, which felt naked under his scrutinizing gaze. I suddenly felt weak, my hands itching to brush away that wet lock of hair near his left eyebrow. And then he smiled. That killer smile, as someone so rightly baptized it.

And then I woke up, smiling. Looking out of my window, I felt tempted to join the dance of the rain.

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2 Comments on “#5”

  1. radicalblackrose says:

    sigghhh….

    if looks can kill, we’d be long dead.

    🙂

  2. bansuri says:

    =) we sure would.


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