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I talked about coffee and global warming and the contribution of coffee to global warming.

She talked about life and people, and I wondered if I should recite my poems.

They don't exaggerate in movies; it is difficult, even when the lines have been memorized.

"I know what you want to say, lover boy."

I looked at her and felt naked.

She smiled. Though no master of the art of non-verbal communication, I felt sure there was play, and love, and discernment in her smile.

Saying anything seemed needless.

It was perfect.

So I ruined it, "Listen, my social and emotional quotients aren't that high... and you are too good for me, you know."

She took my hand in hers and kissed it, affectionately. "You are too good to me, you know."

I wondered if I should recite my poems.

Story by:

Mohit Parikh

submitted at 7:26pm

19 July 2011

Mohit Parikh's web: