On Meeting The Perfect Guy

You’re here! I finally saw you!

You’re sniffing one of those classic books on the corner of a bookstore, not minding a thing. Picking up Shakespeares’. You look good on that reading glass, just saying.

You’re wearing those stained jeans and black The Strokes shirt that I’m not certain if a year old. You’re not just the typical infomercial dudes I usually see on TV and pre-teens scream at. No, you’re much more than that. You got an amazing taste in music, I can tell that from your shirt and hearing your loud phone music. It’s singing The Smiths – To die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die. 

To tell you the truth, you don’t look like my dream guy. But you have this thing in you that radiates from the insides. I guess you, being a bookworm is a plus. But I know, three yards away, that you are not just something. The moment I saw you, I heard banging on my chest and my mouth went dry like Sahara Desert.

I liked the way you flip those pages with amazed eyes. Like, you’re on one of those Narnia worlds, or perhaps in Hogwarts. What are you thinking right now? It’s like your brain is packed with too much surprises. I wonder what’s in there.

Isn’t it weird that on this one sunny June morning I’d see you? And there you are, on the cashier paying for new The Merchant of Venice and will be gone. When will I be able to see you again? When I be able to know your name?

Maybe not this time, maybe not anymore.

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