“I loved a man once,” She murmured, her breath a puff of swirling grey smoke. “He was perfect, you know. He was tall and strong and gorgeous…And his eyes, God, his eyes. They were that wonderful shade that only occurred at sunset, when the sun is just below the horizon, that shade, yes. A blue, a mesmerizing, entrancing blue.” She closed her eyes, reminiscing.

“But it was his voice that really captured me. It was like honey; velvety smooth and achingly sweet. That voice, no, he himself, could make me do anything. I would’ve ran till the ends of the Earth with my feet sore and blistered for him. Would’ve composed a love song for the likes of Broadway for him. Would’ve walked on water for him. I would’ve died, for him.” A bitter smile came along her face.

“But?”

“But what?”

“Why did you stop loving him?” There was a pause, a shudder of breath, but barely noticeable.

“I don’t think I ever really did stop. You see, I did die for him. But I learnt very quickly that he wouldn’t and never would do the same for me.”

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