The hand
Trees, lights…Sound, People are walking lost in their own world. A drop falls on the cheeks and slowly tears starts gushing, hands are busy wiping them away but they still continue to roll… More vehicles pass by, honking, making their way through the rush.
The darkness helps her to hide her tears, pain and ache in her heart. A lump in her throat and the loneliness she felt inside her heart. Just walking on the lanes where light won’t fall on her face. A sound that was coming from inside her heart was keep walking… just do not look back. The path will lead you to the unknown, just do not be scared. It might freak you at first but later it will give you the utmost pleasure than what familiarity ever gave you.
She wanted to be lost…only to see will people bother to find her… Will people go look around for her or will they move ahead like water flowing down the stream and their memory becoming as faint something written on the wet sand.
Will they manage to find her? How will they describe her? Will she just remain a girl in green shorts? But who are her friends? Is just when you do not find something you consider to be lost? Are her inner demons more dangerous than her outside world? Questions keep tunneling into more complicated questions. Answers that lead to more questions.
Still walking, cars are passing by… and she searching for that hand to pull her over from that darkness, into the light. Where a beam might fall over her face, streak of light might set a glow her tears drops. A hand to pull her over.



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well.... i m in my freshmen year of journalism and communication.'

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