Being Women



The Spring Bloom 

Their first meeting had been at a bloggers’ meet. He was fresh, and vivacious, and happy. Now, they would occasionally sit in a cafe that smells heavily of coffee beans and cheesy garlic bread, and buy one another coffee, looking into one another’s eyes. He was never tired of her, of listening to her pain, her unfulfilled desires, her midnight tears. Even amidst a crowd, he would find her. He could never miss her. His eyes would wade through even the most dingiest of places, thickly crowded, to her.

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