One Starry Night’s Rush

      They had scheduled to meet on the terrace. She waited for him with bated breath. They would be in trouble if they were heard; so, very carefully, he walked up to her and took her into his arms.


“I have missed you.”
“And so have I.”
“Lets go.”

The ten steps that led to the open of the terrace consumed more time and strength than ever today. A hue, a cry of sheer happiness to have found the person holding her hand was what she wanted to let him know with; she knew that he knew, but she also knew that he must know. Such was the practice of expressions they seldom dealt with.

Arriving at the scene of a sky full of stars and a planet, or it was just Sirius, the freshness of every intake of oxygen was detoxifying to the state of mind they both carried among themselves.

A stone bench, with it being completely stuck to the wall at one side, was all they could lay upon. A little laughs shared, a few giggles spared – when you know you have found the one, you just know and keep self-assuring. That juncture of being at one’s silliest best and not being subject to offense or wrathful reaction, is what glues a bond of love.

Laying on the stone bench on a starry night, searching for the right star, looking for galactic answers, spotting outworldly space vehicles was their love. Entangled fingers, hiding faces into each others embrace. They looked up into the night sky, they let each others imagination flow.

Stealing glances at random and catching the other watchful of the latters stunning features was a pass time.

Such was their love. Simply simple.


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