He writes so well. Expressive and edge-cutting. But how has he turned into a poet in no time?


"He writes so well. Expressive and edge-cutting. But how has he turned into a poet in no time?"
"There are lot of doleful phrases and melancholy in his stories."
The whole group of friends discussed as they visited the blog he maintains and named it as 'Ink Rain' and 'stirred with memories' was dug underneath. As the whole lot of girls were scrolling down his blog, she was busy, talking on call.
"I don't love him. I never did. He is too dead to be loved by a completely alive girl like me.", she uttered.
"Please be there, I'm just coming." she said and put her cellphone away so that the sound of her voice may not get audible to the listener.
"Don't bore with all these things. Check out the pic of Adnan, he looks ravishing with his Pulsar 220; do you know, his pocket money is 10,000 per month and he avoids repeating clothes." as she was constantly talking with no pause, someone interrupted,
"We are watching his pictures. You keep on talking to him." She was on the call again. As she walked away far from the group, the girl hiding behind the wall appeared in front of her.
"How dare you do this to him?" she blurted and in anger snatched her cell phone and threw it away from the floor. "He is in depression. His mother calls me. He hasn't eaten anything for several days and locked himself inside his room. You are such an evil." she added.

"I never asked him to love me like this. I was never into him. It was he, who kept on begging me to love him. How could someone love such a desperate guy, who don't have any self respect. Even if, I have betrayed him, he is still calling me day and night. And why on earth, are you so worried for him. You people are mere best friends?" she poured out everything and started walking away.




Sarah was dazed. She remembered the day, when she used to play hide and seek with him and he used to tease her by saying that, he would marry her and she blushed till her cheeks got hurt.
Her cell phone rang and she received the call.
"What did she say? Is she alright? Did you ask whether she had dinner last night? Is she crying? Speak up something!" the pitch of Sahil increased with every sentence.
"She is happy."
"Thank God!"
"With someone else."
"Her happiness matters most."
"Then why not mine Sahil? Do you remember the day, when I befriend a guy and you held his collar just because he offered me a friendship band? Doesn't my happiness count?"
"I can do anything to make you happy. But the reason should be me. We have grown up playing; teasing each other and standing by each other's side...damn, what is happening to me! May be, it is because, I love Tanu, so my emotions are staining out."
"Are you sure you love her? Then, why did you not let me enter that park?"
"Did you again dare to go there where you fell down on your knees and your clothes turned red of blood?"
"What is Tanu's favorite color?"
"It's blue...no, it's pink."
"No Sahil, blue is my favourite colour."
"Don't lie. It is red. But how come I remember everything of yours and tend to forget hers. Oh yes, we are best friends."
"But..." she got speechless. And that day, she realised, sometimes friendship fills the spaces made for love.

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