“Don’t you
ever get tired of it?”
“Tired
of what?” I asked Smriti.
Smriti
was my first cousin and next door neighbor. She was the only one yet aware of
my special friendship with Raj.
“Of
buying him gifts, making him cards, thinking of him, talking to him, planning
your outings, sharing your memories… I am tired of speaking of it!”
“Never. Not
of getting his hugs, seeing him smile, asking him for suggestions, waiting for
him, accepting gifts, going out and the like.”
“This
love’s going to spoil our generation!” she said irritated.
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