I was with my mom some weeks back and had the urge to write about "love", actually scribble the "story" on a Kleenex (we were in a restaurant at the time, thus the absence of my keyboard or a paper). I kept the note in my wallet until now, thought it wise to upload it before the "writing material" falls apart.
Here is what I wrote, it may be considered as fiction or non-fiction :). I guess that is left for me to know and for you to find out :).
The sun was glaring, as bright as a burning furnace and as hot as my heart beat when I think about my first love.
He used to be everything to me; my first touch, my first stolen kiss and the first cause of butterflies in my tummy.
Oh sweet love.
Love then had meaning; it was free, naive and effortless. I did not have to smile the right way or love the right way, I was just LOVED.
I can vividly remember the first day I laid my eyes on him, my heart literally stopped and to my medium size frame, he looked like the duplication of “Thor”; his broad shoulders, his clear brown eyes (not blue in this case) and his strong chocolatey voice…hmmmm, thinking about him now still gives me goose bumps.
…and lunch came to an end and so did my story, I like it unfinished though, who knows when the “inspiration of cupid” will strike me again…just maybe I will conclude it or better still you can play around with it and conclude yourself.
To be continued.