From @TheScotchGirl: The girl was pretty, but there was something about her. She was very attentive & focussed. He didn’t think she would be so easy to handle being such a big star now. He rushed to his laptop. He accessed his “Blue” folder; there she was staring out at him. Got you, he smiled, evilly.
From @AbhiAndNow: I roamed the dark alleys of our first kiss, I got drenched in the summer rain, I jumped into the ferocious Ganga from the Howrah Bridge, I glided like a kite over the Maidan and watched a couple bargain in the esplanade, as I tried to bargain your memories from those evocative streets of Kolkata.
From @roshd: The rays of the morning sun feel like your smile, the doorbell chime your laughter, the boiling tea kettle was evocative of your anger- always simmering never explosive. This large empty bed always feels you’ve slept in it.There’s stuff you’ve left behind. Tell me, you’ve left -what do I do with these memories?
From @filmypurna: He fake laughed when his friends mocked her, avoided her like plague,found solace in the arms of whisky,even called her a bitch.The memories,every place, song came with her attached. deep within he knew that hatred was possibly impossible to evoke.So what if she married someone else,she had taught him how to love.
From @ponderpuffman: He stood in a corner and looked at them. They all represented something. Some stood for ambition, some for compassion. Some stood for genius, some for perfection. Knowing it, they all bloomed.What did he evoke, in others and in himself? Weirdness? Depression? Impulsiveness? Ingeniousness? Apathy? Envy? Secrecy?
He bloomed. For he stood for contradiction.
From @PeaceOVent:
Only the eyes could be seen. The Hijaab made sure of that. She was a mystery in black, darkly enticing every eye that met those eyes.
Underneath it all, she dressed in the latest couture. Prada, Chanel, Gucci - an everyday choice. It was just for them, a special-treat. The mystery came undone, for his eyes only.
From @AbhiAndNow: I roamed the dark alleys of our first kiss, I got drenched in the summer rain, I jumped into the ferocious Ganga from the Howrah Bridge, I glided like a kite over the Maidan and watched a couple bargain in the esplanade, as I tried to bargain your memories from those evocative streets of Kolkata.
From @roshd: The rays of the morning sun feel like your smile, the doorbell chime your laughter, the boiling tea kettle was evocative of your anger- always simmering never explosive. This large empty bed always feels you’ve slept in it.There’s stuff you’ve left behind. Tell me, you’ve left -what do I do with these memories?
From @filmypurna: He fake laughed when his friends mocked her, avoided her like plague,found solace in the arms of whisky,even called her a bitch.The memories,every place, song came with her attached. deep within he knew that hatred was possibly impossible to evoke.So what if she married someone else,she had taught him how to love.
From @ponderpuffman: He stood in a corner and looked at them. They all represented something. Some stood for ambition, some for compassion. Some stood for genius, some for perfection. Knowing it, they all bloomed.What did he evoke, in others and in himself? Weirdness? Depression? Impulsiveness? Ingeniousness? Apathy? Envy? Secrecy?
He bloomed. For he stood for contradiction.
From @PeaceOVent:
Only the eyes could be seen. The Hijaab made sure of that. She was a mystery in black, darkly enticing every eye that met those eyes.
Underneath it all, she dressed in the latest couture. Prada, Chanel, Gucci - an everyday choice. It was just for them, a special-treat. The mystery came undone, for his eyes only.
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