My happy place.

We sat on the rooftop of an old fort, absorbing all that the city laid bare from its tallest point; wind, birds, airplanes, clouds and ofcourse the sun. Which was apparently a bright yellow when we had arrived, but soon dissolved into an orange gold, quickly turning a blood red, before we got up to go. The horizon was bathed in shades of pink, the lightest, the darkest and everything in between. It looked surreal.❤️


I saw an airplane dash into the burning sun and emerge victorious from the other end. Unscathed. I saw a white streak of light in the blue vault above us and thought it was a shooting star. But he dismissed it as just a spaceship. (Though I still secretly like to believe I was right and choose to hang on to the wishes I had made, with high hopes! 😜)


I haven’t had moments like this, in a long time. This was good. I want to preserve this one, for eternity, tuck it in one of my memory cells very carefully, lock it away for good, throw the keys away for another lifetime. That good.


I could feel the wind breezing through my hair.(Making me almost look like a monster! Or so I think! Anyway, it didn’t matter one bit! Or so I would like to think!🙄)


Anyway, we could glance down at the panoramic view of the entire city before us, no matter which side we faced. And we sat there, giggling, laughing, poking fun at each other, hand-in-hand, arm-in-arm, eyes-in-eyes, all alone, together.

Have you ever felt this way? For someone? With someone? Around someone? A connection so real, it feels almost like a dream.

We talked our hearts out. It was dizzyingly good. I think his eyes twinkled. Mine shone no less.

I have not witnessed this version of me, in months. I think I like this version more. It is more real, bare, raw, unadulterated.

As I immersed myself further, into the moment, into his eyes, into the spectacle of the city that lay sprawled before me, I think I fell in love with him all over again.

On my way back home, there were tears in my eyes. And it was not dust that made them water.


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