“I figured I shouldn't
talk to you, but I don't see how that's gonna make any difference. Can I
pretend you're not in love so that it’s easier for me to talk to you?” she
said.
Of course, she has the right to remain silent. After all, what’s the difference
that gonna make? For years, she was silent and that was in her silence he loved
her. She is to him what oil is to fire, the infinite raging of the flame will
never be quenched even in the infinite vacuum of silence or thoughts. His love
for her was molded within the matrix of time and space; the somatic propinquity
of the physique and the affability of hers were the afterglow of that infinite,
telepathic love. Her silence would never make any difference.
"Let’s dance!” he
said.
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