The Heart Of Sins

He really liked her.

Mysteriously, seeing her everyday made his day always brighter, like a sole positive thought floating amongst an ocean of mixed and negative. Careful, to not make it seem too obvious to her, he would automatically switch to a routine, whereby he would transform into someone who gave out advice. Like the titles of good books and doling out tidbits like how tobacco rolled up into a joint was more harmful than a standard cigarette containing tobacco that came with a manufactured filter.

There was something about her, a mystical quality that radiated from her within, swooning him into silence every time he looked at her eyes, paling him into transfixedness, rooting him to one spot, as he would listen to her talk, her low melancholy voice every bit as pleasing as her vibe. In moments like these, Sins always wished time would stand still and the universe evaporated into thin air, just leaving the two of them behind to fun and frolic around lakes, oceans and mountain ranges.

During moments like these, he would feel incredibly like electricity, his bated breath always slightly heavy, each time she turned or tilted her head forwards, like the very gospel of Christ. It was really incredible how the depth of his feelings had bottomed out so…easily and quickly, in a short space of twenty two days. Twenty two days, and Sins’ heart had purely and completely melted, a prospect he hadn’t imagined two months before, when he had sworn and thought such feelings didn’t exist and sounded lame, like fantasy, something to be shown in films but not possible in real life.

He thought about the letter he had written for her, a full seven page spread on A4 sized blank sheets, that he had penned, each word emanating from the very bottom of his heart, if such a bottom existed. She had said that it was a sweet gesture, an artifact to be respected, which had made his day. He could live with that, heck, he could thrive, and indeed he had, over the next few days, a bounce and a spring in his steps, whenever they spoke a few words to each other.

Sins wondered what to do. He felt he was in a fix, a spot of bother, that seemed trivial to a neutral observer, but not for him, although he had no choice in the said matter. He had no option but to bide his time, because, somewhere, deep, deep inside the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew, he really, well and truly knew.

She was the one.

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