'Love stories are not meant to be told, idiot', she tells me, 'they should be felt.' What do I know-- I nod.
'What else, what else?' I ask.
'Don't ask dumb questions.'
'Why not,' I go, baiting her.
'You'll never understand these things, ever. You've never loved, babu, you wont understand,' she says, the drama queen.
'Yes, and you're the queen lover, no. Always falling and falling and falling, and hurting yourself, chyaa. Don't you ever get tired of tormenting yourself for no reason at all?' I just sound angry.
'Listen-- to love is to live, understand? We live to love, and we live because we live. Without love there's only people and boredom, geddit?' She is definitely flirting.
'Sexxytimes. It's the sexytimes,' I say. She knows what I mean.
Eyerolls. Exasperated long breaths. Several awkward moments of silence.
'I dont know why I even try, chyaa.'
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