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Moments. Memories. Musibat

The next few days were filled with angry silence or, so I comprehend ‘no-talking’, no sparing a glance, and no sleeping in the same room, to be. The corridor was our last conversation spot and last physical session. To say, I have been missing her body, her presence, and the whole of her would be an understatement.

If it were not for the activities at the border, I would have lost it long back. I am afraid.

‘She is not breathing the same air as I did.’ I groan my annoyance into the microphone of my fourth freshly bought phone this week. Yeah, I broke as many. Again, if it were not for those pathetic devices—where else would I have channeled my frustration?

‘She had just walked away without so much a glance and I, well I did not have any particular choice in the matter. I had to walk away. After all, how long could I have been standing there with the twitching-moustache uncle glaring at me as if it was not my mate but his only daughter who has been offended gravely?’ I cry my exasper
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