Ah, fiction.

He says:
The thing that struck me first about her was that her plate contained the oddest combination of food I’d ever seen.
And I’ve been to a lot of places, seen people eating cockroaches, even snakes.
But I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she had onions, pickle and Chinese on her plate at the same time.

I was to learn later that it was just the tip of the iceberg.
That the oddities would keep hurtling at me, barely giving me time to breathe.
And I would accept them, donning the air of a martyr but secretly wishing for more.

More of the nonsense.
More of the idiosyncrasy.
More.

There were other things that puzzled me.
But I didn’t have time to ponder over them.

Being around her was like being stuck in a warp of a kind.

You saw everything that you always saw.
But you never recognized them.



She says:
I could never understand why he was so happy.
His life sucked.
Most people’s lives suck.
Then why, pray tell, was his face always contorted into a stupid smirk?

I assumed it to be one of things I’d never understand and tried to let it go.

But then I couldn’t, because letting it go, would be like letting go of a limb.

Curiosity killed the cat, but I was willing to find out what happened to non-feline inquisition.

Then, for some reason, I became his friend.

I liked the fact that he was so organized in his head - not messy like everyone else I knew.
But I still didn’t get why he was so happy.
After a point I stopped caring. But I never stopped trying to find out.

Often I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t just do us both a favour and leave him alone.

But his presence was like caffeine.
I say that, because when he wasn’t around I suffered from definite withdrawal symptoms.

Most people would say there was more to it than what met the eye.

But then, most people spent their lives with blinders.

So there you go.