There was a time- I am sure of it- when I spoke a half-sentence, and you completed the rest. I am sure there was a time in which, when I was to tease you on the smallest of crimes, your face would break into dimples. I am sure of it. It is distant, but I swear it was.
I can\'t really remember the last time we talked or had a real conversation. Perhaps it was on that sunny day; the conversation ended in both of us laughing after lying to each other about a misplaced pen. Maybe those laughs were forced, perhaps they were echoes. To you, they are probably just memories. Perhaps another of those conversations would reignite the flame which has faltered; but what use is there to lighting an already burnt-out thread of a candle? I am still willing to try.
The saddest perhaps is that, after that day, we neither did fight nor scrutinize the mistakes; we did not hold a grudge over the misplaced pen! The smiles did not immediately die out, neither did the dimples suddenly turn into stretch marks from frowns. It just happened. I swear it. I just looked at you one day, and the smile you gave, and the smile I returned- they seemed a bit more light-hearted than yesterday\'s. Slowly, the long hours of gossiping turned into awkward minutes of silence. You stared at the wall to the right; I to the left. Slowly, you started gazing more towards the window, I to the door. That ended with both of us walking out. I did not think much of it. I swear it.