Breaking Norms, retard style.

We don't have to be all co-ordinated. Yellow and orange un-matches perfectly.

You don't have to buy me flowers. Sharing a vada-pav does the trick.

We don't have to walk hand in hand, blushing and singing romantic songs. Nirma Washing Powder will be our anthem. And, we'll dance to it. Like retards.

You don't have to like my pimples and my clueless mess of a hair. Be angry on them like I am too?

We dont need to kiss each goodnight. Pillow fights shall be our routine.

I'll mess up your hair and you'll tickle me. Or vice versa.

No, fancy restaurants or sitting sophisticatedly. Roadside junk food is all we need.

You won't take me to the movies that much, but come with me on eating expeditions?

We won't go partying in high heels and tight clothes. Instead we'll just watch trashy movies and Modern Family in our unflattering pajamas.

We will always eat on the bed. And, spill food everywhere and on each other.

And, then have pizza and cheesecake dates.

You don't always have to waste your money. Let me make my wallet sad too.

We won't need long phone calls or texts. We'll be just fine.

No, we don't need any of these.

But,

You'll need make me laugh. And, be there.

Breathless.

In a childlike bewilderment, she marvelled upon his unlikeness.

Unlikeness from the rest of the empty people in the room.

The rest of the people with their baggage and weird proclivity.


But, him.

He was just.. something else.

A refreshing modification to her otherwise monotonous life who gave her enough reasons to beam about.

A smile breaks thus, on seeing how effortlessly he would be swallowed up into the crowd and yet emerge distinctly.

The more she scrutinized him for signs of deficiency, the more he would surprise her.

And, they shared laughs. Lots of them.

And, some stories.

And, suddenly the emptiness in the bottom drawer began to fade.