Passing by

I think I saw her again on Wednesday. I told myself not to wander off. The bus moved so quickly to lose track of her, as her figure became smaller.

Apart from other times, I couldn’t care more. There weren’t many images except those in Mayflair. Soon, everything smudged.

It wasn’t that she had turned less charming, and in fact, she was sweeter than ever. The problem was with me, the sinking heart in the cold dead sea, causing all the unaffectionate.

It was a great start to prevent dejection.

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