You are walking hand in hand with him. Fingers entwined and a smile adorns your face. You squeeze his hand every now and then. Sometimes to show your happiness. Sometimes to give comfort. Sometimes in jealousy. And sometimes in anger. But every time you give his hand a squeeze a feeling of satisfaction waves through your heart. After all, it's your thing. Only you are allowed to walk with him holding hands. Only you squeeze it like that. You are special to him. Then one day you see him with another person. Walking. Hand in hand. You feel betrayed. You feel cheated on. The next day you see him with yet another person. Walking the same. And something in you breaks as the realisation dawns upon you that you aren't special to him. It's just his thing to hold hands. That he's just nice that way. You aren't the only one to him. You are just another one.
That's how it is. You meet too many people in a lifetime. Too many hands to hold. You walk along with a lot of them. And as you start thinking that this time it's gonna stay. That this time it's going to be a 'forever'. They leave. You feel sad but you let them go. Because you know if they were to stay they would have. So you just lift your hand and wave them goodbye. And you move on in search of the one that will fit like a glove.
