Sincerely, The girl who left words Unsaid

2. I won't dance_Fred Astaire

He really wondered why in the world he even thought he could be a writer, sitting at his table with the cursor taunting him with every blink on the laptop, his diary left open and idle at the window with each page flipping on its own, let's not even talk about the handwriting cause the first page of his every dairy looks like it has been written by an old professor who once taught calligraphy to aspiring artists while every other page begged for a cursive writing book for a twenty-year-old Shane. 

He just wanted to write about his life stories, original because it was his experiences. His experiences were more of a roller coaster ride, shades of white of affection, colorless shade of years of the rough times, and occasional once, now common, the shade of grey, his side that was constantly feeding on his white side, the black side slowly coming to power. 

Perhaps the only shade of grey which he was okay was of the smoke. He was taking a grave risk of smoking another cigarette in his room. He was tired, and just too psyched up about how fast his life was moving but he wasn't, how time went and on, how things happened how things changed but there was something missing at that moment and he just sat back, he let the kick penetrate his thick skull. 

He just thought about his day, and that's probably when for the first time he thought about her.

 Jenny.

He has known people, he thought he could read them like books. When he was young he would walk on the 'roads untraveled' hoping he wouldn't get lost. There was a time when he used to joke around about putting 'walking' as a hobby in his resume. He would walk to random locations, he would have a spot fix where he would sit listening to music, acknowledge his thoughts he wouldn't share, or just relax for a moment blowing circles of smoke. 

He considered every person to be a story. His favorite quote would be 'thousands of faces, none that you remember' although he always tried to remember every face, every detail. And the face he saw today was something he wouldn't wish to forget. 

He just knows how the story unfolds by seeing someone. 

When you really care about someone, he thought, heightened your observation skills. He knew the floral print of her handkerchief which was he later found out was tsubaki - The winter rose, he remembered her necklace of st. Jude, Patron Saint of Hope, and he even noticed how her handwriting was childish cursive which was evenly spaced out for her craving for space, she avoided multiple strokes to cancel off a wrong word. 

The next day was fun, the next day was adorable. To think of it they both knew what an awesome flashback it will be someday. Finally, the creatives department managed to get funds, after a lot of begging, stalking teachers, and getting the idea approved which they basically didn't stick to. There was a myth, a rumor that creatives were all about poster making. Well, before the college fest was taking place no matter what the event was Aayu and Shane ended up nothing but posters. Let's not talk about it. Ever heard of the phrase swayed in sentiments? That's precisely what happened with Dash who took the charges of preparing 50 posters. 

Dash had a basketball player figure with a square-cut face and round black spectacles. He had a decent sense of humor and a people-friendly vibe. All his childhood photos which he had uploaded on social media, he had mushroom hair cut with no sight of a smile. He was observant but reserved maybe that is why he found the camera to be a natural extension of himself.

Shane didn't hate posters, although he loved them. He would try to show off his skills with the pencil because he could sketch but then stopped because he wasn't able to sketch. He would give ideas. He had a racing mind, and he was always hungry for appreciation so he would flaunt all his ideas. He was to be found half of the time sitting somewhere closely watching each and everyone's work.