Fiction II

And he hands over his drink to her. Something he told himself he’d never do. She finishes it. In one big gulp. There were so few chances of that happening in life, she doesn’t want to miss even a single drop. Sometimes, all she has to do is glance in his direction, to feel goosebumps. The conversation that they were having seemed to have been written just for them. Like they were enacting their roles in a play. They knew what the other was going to say, but would still say it out loud, just for the conversation to appear more real. She knew instantly she was never going to let this one go. Ever.

“Peaceful?” he asks. Extending his hand to touch hers.

“With you, always …” is what she wants to say. But says “very” instead..

And she gets back to her book, pretending to read, while she watches him sleep. Like a baby.

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