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My Perfect strangerMy Perfect stranger.
I've met him years ago, nonetheless he barely saw me but few times.
Not the "romantic" type of guys which might send girls flowers for absolutely no reason; He was strongly against it simply hated to spoil them.
Used to make fun of those who does; saying: "I'm no flower boy "
We've always had our little small chats, and a platonic relationship went on for a while, a weird one at least.
Even in his love cruelty appeared...
Days led to months and his memory disappeared with the tide.
Shutting the door slowly on him.
He hated more than he loved; of words he barely used to say, yet they were knifes cutting deep in my throat, every time we spoke.
At a night which I was staying up late finishing some works and papers and searches, he came across my mind, moments later there he was
Did I decide to wait till he shows? Or did he?
Does it actually matters?
What's more important is the following up script our talk produced.
The "tête-à-tête" which wa
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