The meeting of the night (:

Read till end. Will you?

Forgetting her eyes and hair surprise me because that's what I love the most about her appearance. How could I love something about someone I forget, the moment I come after seeing her!

The way I admire her eyes, well, I can tell you about that. Her eyes appear even bigger the moment she takes off her spectacles (I like calling spectacles instead of specs). The brown of the iris shines like a marble which makes them mesmeric sometimes. Other times, they seem revolutionary.

The colour of her hair is an impressive brown. She loves to stroke her hair and feels it between her fingers. Keeping her hair short and open makes her feel free more than ever. I don't know what the name of her haircut is, and neither does she.

Now jumping to the part– what we did this night, like any other night.

As usual and as I mentioned my love for her beautiful eyes and bold hair, our meeting started with long hours of me looking at her eyes and hair. All of this with complete silence and an empty mind. The only time my mind is not in the clutches of any thoughts or thoughts of anyone.

We touched each other's fingers. We started with the index, then the middle, ring, little, and thumb and finally, the whole palm. We did not feel the touch, however. We laughed. Then turned so normal as if we were stones.

When she turns to stone, she looks scary and I feel like running away from her as far as I can. But I don't. I feel fear and joy together.

She took long gasps today. We didn't talk, just spent our time staring at each other.

That's our ultimate solace, I believe.

I wonder if she is who she seems to be or what I know of her. Or someone who's a whole different creature, who doesn't belong to this human world, just putting on a mask, unmindful of who she is.

She started to feel tired now. Tired of all the things. But then she smiled and appeared as alive as confined to our meeting. My eyes moved as she smiled, wider and wider. Her smile strengthened her again.

But then,

She turned to stone again. We laughed back again. The laugh was more maniacal and chilling now.

Baffled how sometimes she feels so deeply, sensitively, completely and ultimately she's all empty again. Empty as an old container, forgotten to be used, with a rusted lid– full of dust that would make a creaky sound if tried to open.

I stepped back and put on my spectacles. It was time to go and sleep since I had school the next day. Enough for the night looking into the mirror.

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Thank you for reading <3