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The Spoilt Brat!

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Excuse me …

Rosaline has been sitting at the table with her friends for more than an hour now. Laughing and sharing stories with her friends. It was the birthday of Sarah, her best friend and this was her treat, despite the fact that Sarah had already thrown a party. This was how she was though. Segregation was her habit and she felt that it was necessary to classify her friends as well by giving her “friends” a party and her “special friends” a treat afterward the party in the café for a coffee. But to be honest, Rosaline was never like this.

For her things has always been simple. It’s either a friend or not. She was never one to judge others or even classify them as a “special friends” and “friends”. She always found joy in the simplicity of her relationships and cherished every person the same. That was how Rosaline was. Despite the fact that Sarah was so judgemental, Rosaline was still her friend and I guess that is what the old lore of “Opposites Attract” is all about.

Rosaline was sitting right next to her best friend, who so strikingly opposite to her that people often wondered how are they even friends. Sarah was plump and stout and Rosaline was tall and thin. Sarah was the strange one, with her baritone voice and all floral and bright clothing whereas Rosaline was the one with a feeble voice and darker clothing. They were the Laurel and Hardy of the school, just blown up to an excessively large level. And here they were. Sarah drinking her Americano and Rosaline already high and buzzing on her espresso.

Rosaline was lost in her laughter, induced by a joke a friend of Sarah cracked when she felt a tap on her shoulder. The group at once fell silent and when she recovered herself and recollected her senses, she saw that even the smirk of some of the people around the desk has been wiped off.

She turned to find a boy, maybe a little over her age with his hair a tad too long for him to carry properly, His hair seemed as if they had all the freedom in the world and yet like an undisciplined class trying to not make a sound at the arrival of a teacher, his hair seemed to be fixed in a hurry. His eyes were black and his blue jeans were dirty. He wore a black sweatshirt and matching canvas shoes.

“Excuse me,” he said to her and she could feel the tension rising in the air.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I did not mean to irrupt you and your friends here and I am really sorry for that but I just entered the cafe and I could not stop me from coming over here and telling you something which I think that you should be aware of and you clearly are not. You see I would not have disturbed you but I couldn’t help but notice that Julia Roberts looks exactly like you” he said in a single breath and acted as if nothing happened. He stood there and looked at her with an expectant expression but she did not know what he wanted. And in confusion and irritation, she turned to Sarah.

“Do I look anywhere near like Julia Roberts?” she asked but before Sarah could reply, he spoke again.

“I’m sorry but you look like yourself. She looks like you. People will always say to you the other way around but the truth, in fact, is what I just said. Can I have a cup of coffee with you?”

Sarah might have judged him. She might have shouted at him or ridiculed him. She might even have used her pepper spray or called the security. But there was something about that boy that made her feel, weird! Something peculiar. Something which was his own. Unique. Unprecedented. And while Sarah would not have gone for a coffee with him, she found herself collecting her things and leaving her things.

P.s. Happy Valentines Day.

The Lunch Break

Leandre was your average joe, with average qualities and an average life. An average job. Average wage. I need not continue about his life right, you get the picture. Leandre was the guy currently running inside a diner in the afternoon with his sleeves rolled till his elbows, half his shirt peeking out his trousers and his laces undone. His blond hair a mess and dripping. A messenger side bag hanging at his hips, carelessly thrown across his shoulder. A pen held between his lips and sheets of paper in his hands marked red and blue in places.

Leandre rushed inside the diner and sat at the nearest empty table he could lay his eyes on. He wrote frantically with his right hand and rose his left hand in the air as if he was the studious student of the class who had just a single minute till the end of the period and he wanted to make a note of what the professor was saying and ask a question in that one tiny minute. His hour-long lunch break was again bound to pass with him working and drinking a ton of coffee and his stomach empty. A waitress soon attended him, though, much to his comfort.

“What can I do” she began but was cut short by his smooth and unabused voice.

“I need a Cappuccino. Please. Quick. Thank you.” said he with his eyes never leaving the paper. The only difference was that before he had his hand in the air and right now, they were in his hair.

Mumbling figures under his breath and crunching figures in his head, he felt his stomach grumble and revolt. His stomach clearly threatened him to file a case against him in the labor court and like a perfect boss he looked for the waitress to ask for his coffee again. He called her and went back to his work.

“Please,” he said. “Save my life. Cappuccino. Hurry.”

His mind was well trained to look past all the distractions and troubles. He had trained himself to be void of all emotion. He was no longer irritated by the loud speaking and verbal diarrhea-suffering co-worker. He was well trained to look past the construction noises and into his hieroglyphics worksheets. But when another couple of minutes passed and his coffee was nowhere to be found, he lost it. He lost control over himself and he couldn’t control his anger. His anger aimed at himself that he got himself in at work released at the poor waitress. His frustrations released themselves as a river breaks the dam built on her and escapes.

He quietly capped his pen. And waited for the waitress to pass him by, like a rattlesnake waiting for his prey to come near him. And when she did, he pounced. He stood up and look at her in the eyes and raised his voice and said, “MY COFFEE!”

The coffee shop came to a stand still and everyone turned around to look at him. The sound of his voice sent something breaking inside of him. It broke his current state and he noticed that the poor waitress was shivering. Her eyes were brimming with tears and she was scared. Unable to apologize for his actions, he turned to the table and picked up his papers in preparation to walk out of the store. But then, the magic happened.

“Stay here,” a feminine voice said to the waitress and pulled at his elbow; forcing him to turn around and face her. Her circular face with her cheeks puffy, a tiny girl stood in front of the man who was finding it hard to find his words. Her black hair were neatly tied in a bun but a few strands had broken free from the restraints and were caressing her cheek on the right side of her face. She wore a pink chapstick in the name of makeup and her cheeks were red. Wait. Flushed red, in anger.

“What is your problem, sir?” she asked clearly angry. “Can you not see this is a busy day and we have other customers to attend to as well?”

“But…”

“But what? You cannot wait for your coffee? Even if you cannot wait for you fix of caffeine, you could at least be gentle about being rude. Was it necessary to shout on the top of your lungs?” she screamed at him. Which flushed her face a deeper shade of crimson.

“I.. I. I’m sorry.” he said his head hung down.

That cooled her down but still it was not enough to bring her comfort. Her face was starting to lose the recently acquired flush but her gaze was still cold. “You say that to the other girl Mister.And no coffee for you.” she said and walked away.

“Thank you Louna” the other waitress whispered to the girl as she went back to the kitchen.

As Leandre walked out of the coffee shop, the shop filled with applause for the girl who stood up. Strong and confident. And Leandre found himself daydreaming of Louna ever since.

When They Met… (A.k.a. Your Christmas Present)

I am fashionably late, let me be clear of that first of all. I am late and I know it. I am late on purpose. I am deliberately late. Okay so maybe, just maybe, I am late by a day for your Christmas present, but hey, it’s all on purpose.

Here it finally is. The new chapter in our life. The new beginning that we all needed. A fresh start. The ReBirth of our journey is finally here. To begin with, I will first explain to you the purpose behind this idea and then I would tell you why I am going for this particular idea out of the arsenal of ideas that I have. And then I will finally tell you what all this is all about.

The Purpose: I could have continued with the blogs that I was blogging about already but after my decision to write professionally, I found that everything that I post on a blog will be considered published. Which makes my 600 stories posted here on the blog ineligible to be considered for publication. Thereby, I had to come up with a new format for the blog, so that it can be a win-win situation. You get your stories and I don’t have to feel bad about giving things away rather than having them published.

Why this idea?: It’s simple. Lately, I have been doing some market research and I found out about something called meet-cute. A meet-cute by definition is, a fictional scene, typically in film or television, in which a future romantic couple meets for the first time in a way that is considered adorable, entertaining, or amusing. And I cannot have more than one meet-cute in a story about a single couple right? So why don’t I use this idea?

The idea: I should stop acting as if I am writing an assignment for my English professor who places special emphasis on the importance of categorization and presentation. But either way, enough chit-chat. Here I present to you (pun intended) When They Met… Which is a collection of meet-cutes.

Now what should you expect here? You should expect meet-cutes. How often? Daily!

How often? Daily!

Can I suggest or request you a specific meet-cute? Surely!

Can I request or challenge you to use objects or situations in the meet-cute? Absolutely!

Can I write a guest post here? I do not see why not!

So here I declare that this blog begins it’s new journey today. Bon voyage! I am your captain and you are my passengers. Today the boat is in the dry docks and tomorrow, WE SHALL SAIL!

Welcome, to this blog version 2.0!

My eBook Is Available!

I know I promised all of you an Angel and Al eBook when I stopped writing Angel and Al on the blog. I said that I felt that the stories are a lot close to my heart and that sharing these stories is like having no pants on in a hustling market. I felt as if I am being exposed and that I am revealing secrets.

It was because they are so cute! “Angel and Al” is like my pet project which I have grown so fond of that I don’t want to share them with the world anymore. That I want to keep them with me forever and never share with the world

But it was also my most successful “series” I ran on the blog here. And I finally decided that not sharing the story of Angel and Al is selfish of me and that it is in fact, an injustice to Angel and Al that I am not propagating their beautiful legacy with the world. I felt that it is my duty to spread the joy and happiness which reflects in the stories and the sense of satisfaction I got when I wrote them.

Angel & Al have grown up. The stories are like my children and to see them grow from individual stories to the anthology is an absolutely amazing feeling. Writing Angel and Al was never “work” for me but I always wrote them with a silly grin on my face. Without further ado, I present to you all Angel & Al.

These are a collection of 30 stories (blogs) from this tiny little blog I have. It is free of cost and will be free forever. It is available on Kobo and Smashwords at least and many more retailers. Just so you guys know, I love you all for all the support you gave me over the years. Thank you so much my dearest readers, for all the support.

A special thank you goes to my personal Angel for whom all of these were written initially. This wouldn’t be possible without you.

You can download the book from Smashwords here. If you prefer then click here to download from the Kobo website. Once again, thank you my lovely blog readers for all the support. Do download, I insist. It’s free and very short. Leave it a review and send me your honest thoughts!

P.s. I know that I haven’t been active on the blog lately. It’s just that I have been receiving no feedback from you guys and I got upset and called it quits for a while. But I promised myself that I will be here for you guys, even if I reduce myself down to a single blog a week, even if you guys aren’t here. Stay awesome!

Sleepy Head

“Hey Sleepy head, wakey wakey!”

You rub your eyes but the bed is so warm and the pillow is so soft.Drowsiness takes charge, invites laziness over and the three of you try to drift off to dream land once again.

“Hey.”, you hear a whisper in your ear and concentrate harder on going back to sleep.

“Good morning.”, you hear my voice along with a kiss on your cheek.

You slowly open your eyes and see me in front of the window. The white curtains were blowing in the summer breeze and the sunlight filled the room. You look at me look at you with a smile. I kneel beside your side of the bed and trace your cheek with my fingers with touch so light, it appears inexistant.

A sweet smile slowly creeps onto your lips and in a raspy, dreamy voice you wish me Good Morning.

“I love you.”, I said and kissed your forehead. “Breakfast ready in five minutes woman, get ready.”

With that I walked out of the door and you watched me as I paused at the door to wink at you, making you giggle and whisper Silly Boy under your breath.

That’d Be Fun!

“And then the groom kisses the bride and the priest pronounces them husband and wife.”, I said to you as you put your head on my shoulder and we looked up at the night sky. Forming constellations which do not exist and aren’t real.

“But don’t you think it is boring?”, you said and I let out a slight giggle.

“I guess it is.”, I said. “You want to make it fun?”

“Yes. I want something which will be like our personal way of doing it. It’ll be special and it’ll be unique to us.”, you said and turned to your shoulder to look at me. “You’re the writer.”, you said excitedly. “You tell me something which is fun and unique.”

“I can kidnap you Angel.”, I said.

“No. That’s stereotypical. I will kidnap you.”, you said and we both shared a little laughter.

“As you say mademoiselle. Kidnap me in a bike with side car. That’s almost unheard of.”

“What about our apparel?”, you said and I let out a little hmm as I pretended to think.

“You come in your pyjamas. And with your bunny shaped slippers. I will come in tennis shorts and flip-flops.”, I said and we both roared to laughter.

When we settled ourselves down and looked into each others eyes, you leaned closer and asked, “What about our vows?”

I looked into your eyes and traced the back of my hand on your right shoulder and said, “Well, I will vow that forevermore and beyond I shall be your husband. Your words shall be my guide and you shall be my wife. Till the day God himself dies.”

“And my vows?”, you asked.

“Your vows…”, I said and pretended to think once again with my lips pressed together. You looked at me with an anxious look. “You just say that You Do.

I looked at you look at me and in that moment I felt that the day had seized. I knew that I was forever wed to this girl.

Notes

She’s prettier than it seems but to those who comprehend. She’s prettier than you think if you just look at her skin. She’s prettier than you can imagine if you just think of her looks.

You see she’s like an instrument which you cannot force to sing. She’s not the drum like you who falsetto if someone stings. She’s more like a cello if you look closely. She’s the sound of happiness and the idol of melancholy. She’s misunderstood beyond compare and it’s just because not everyone knows how her to play.

I don’t play her, I really don’t. I just guide the bow softly and just touch the notes. I don’t force her to speak or whisper or scream. I just hold her as on me she leans. I embrace her close and hold her right and we unite and form music bright.

I know you barely understand what I say. You look at her and see an overgrown voila. I look at her and see an instrument rare.

But don’t you worry it’s not your fault. She will seem to you gibberish if you read music wrong. Like Japanese script to an Englishman. Or sheet music to layman.

See You See Me

Work. Work. Work. Work.

WORK!

I should have known that what am I getting myself into when I signed up for this Master of Surgery program. There is hardly any time left and all I can see around by me is just more and more work load and more and more projects, assignments, vivas! Load. Overloaded with work.

Coffee! I need a cold coffee. I look up above my papers and find a glass of chilled coffee, precipitating but thankfully kept on a coaster to keep my papers dry. I took a sip from it and let the caffeine wash over me. If someone was to say to me a few years ago that I will be drinking coffee at 3 a.m. I would probably behind the bars. And yet, here I am doing what I am doing.

Sometimes I just want to pick this book up and throw it on the floor with all my might. But it’s all for the cute and adorable boy who happens to be my boyfriend that I go through this torment of burden of surgery. Silly Al dreams of me performing an open heart surgery!

AL!

O no I totally forgot! Al! We were to eat dinner at 12! I got so engrossed in my study that I missed out on food!

I look frantically here and there and find Al in a position that just melt my heart makes me blush as deep a crimson as beetroot. Al sat on a chair opposite to me. The back of the chair was towards me and so was his face. He had crossed his arms and rested his cheek on it in such a manner that his head was tilted parallel to the Earth. His eyes transfixed on me. Admiring me as if he got the chance to see Sistine Chapel being painted live.

“I love the way you work!”, silly Al says in a raspy voice which makes him appear even more adorable.

My Al. He and his fanatics, both beyond this world.