Nostalgia hits me as I see you shuffling through the plethora of books at the bookstore. After a few minutes of rigorous search, you finally stumble upon a few books.
Standing afar, flipping through the pages of book in hand, looking at you, I reminisce how libraries and bookstores used to make you feel clasutrophobic, no matter how vast the space would be. The moment we would enter, you would be pleading to leave the place asap. The ardent reader in me couldn't withstand your presence, whilst the lover in me would always linger for it.
Lost in my train of thought, I don't know when you bump into me, with your eyes silently hugging mine. However, you shy away from continuing it. It's the love, you say, that changes one. It's the separation, I corrected. Else why would you not withstand my presence and I, being at my favorite place with my favorite person, would feel so cramped & confined.
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