She asks same question over and over: “do you love me?” like interrogation, as if trying to find a pattern, an anomaly in my response. Every time she does this, her pupils grow bigger covering most of the iris of her eyes, her expressions tense and her grip tight on my arm. Then when I…
Category: writing
About me
I am an ordinary person. I rub my shoulders with you often, and when you step on my feet, I step aside without saying a word, assuming it was unintentional. I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt they deserve and for same reason I’m often disappointed to invest my thoughts on many…
Like you mean it
‘Say something nice to me,’ Neal said to Marisa. ‘What,’ she laughed and mumbled in her sleepy voice, ‘at 3 a.m. you want me to say something nice, huh?’ ‘Yes,’ ‘Okay,’ she thought. ‘You are a nice person… not the kind of I thought I would like, but you turned out to be better from…
