You remember how we sat with chairs across of each other and
opened our unfinished books to read them like finishing a chapter of our lives?
You know how you comforted yourself and sat cross-legged, holding your book too
tight and giving the impression that you'd cry your heart out if someone stole
it, like a precious diamond? You had some kind of a dazzling smile that I had
never seen before, and I wondered that day, I wondered too much that I thought
I asked myself aloud, do books do this? Do books make us this beautiful? I can
see you like I'm seeing a character I'm reading that has suddenly come to life,
incarnated with all your beautiful features and smiles and laughter, only with
a different name. I get back to my book so fast I think you see my failed attempt
at sneaking. Every two minutes I finish a paragraph I think it has you in it
somehow, the smile or the words maybe. Sometimes I come across a word you love
like "infinity" or your favorite purple color or even your favorite
flower. I once read that the universe conspires to make everything you really
want, happen, only now I do believe it does.
Is it books that made me believe? Or loving you that made my
heart biased to you? Is it just a smile or a word or a favorite color that
makes me think this is for me? Or am I only being a fool by seeing you without
seeing you? You'd think I'm too tugged in my book that I forget you, but
instead I'm reading this book for you, to you, about you, and with you.
In reply to the previous prose. This is all in my head so don't worry :)
