Knock knock.

He stood by the shore as the waves tickled him seducively, looking at the full moon in all its glory. It has been a while since he felt this way about life – sweet, calm yet alarmingly sexy.

He was the boy who grew up reading books like The Promise, Harry Potter and Scarlet Pimpernel. So, it’s pretty indisputable that there is an enough amount of beauty, dignity, love and romance that runs in his blood with or without her.

Oh, her. She was a mix of beauty and chaos he would say if someone had to bring up her topic. Not everything that you love is meant to be yours. Sometimes it’s for the welfare of your family. A many times, for you.

But, how do you go back to being strangers with someone who has been your soul? You can’t.

But, sometimes you have to. Have you heard of this sonnet?

Love is not love which alters when alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand’ring bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

There is only so many times you can let someone hurt you or put you down before you can’t handle the disappointment.

While I keep narating this, his mobile kept ringing, a number he knew by heart. A call from the past, but don’t we all have a choice to make?

He looked at the sky for as long as he could and as the moment grew, he took his mobile and clicked a picture of it. Not to boast his professionalism, but to souvenir the fact that his world exists in his eyes.

Because sometimes it’s horrible when you defend someone for so long thinking they are different but they turn out to be exactly like what everyone said they’d be.

This also reminds me of a quote I read somewhere, “You can tell so much about a person by the way they leave you”. Maybe true, but you can tell so much more about a person by the way they rebound.

As for him, he is a strong sip of tea in a world that’s drunk on cheap liquor. Somewhere down the line, he deserves someone who is his cup.

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