Emotional Blind Spot

DELUSIONAL FICTIONS





He concentrated slowly on the lines of the book he was holding, tracing each word with his index finger that he read as if each word held the depth of a galaxy within itself and it intrigued her.

Colours of emotions crossed his features with each passing minute, with each turning page. An onlooker could hardly tell what was going on through his head. His expressions drastically changed from confused to shocked, to disbelief in the matter of a few stretched moments.

After a while, a frown creased his forehead deliberately at what he was reading. Shacking his head in a sad gesture and almost disbelief, he closed the book he was reading and pushed it aside on the nearby side table. Meanwhile, pushing himself more into his reading chair and closing his eyes in deep thought.

She crossed her legs under herself,  glanced above at him from her own book for a slight moment. She caught him somewhat trapped in a deep trance. Eyes closed, tracing his fingers over his lips, a habit he’d formed whenever confused, uncertain or nervous. She smiled at how she had grown to read him so well, like an open book.

“Did the author kill one of your favourite characters, again?” She asked while closing her own book, emphasizing on 'again'. She relaxed into the cushion and placed her chin upon her palm, resting and watched him keenly. A knowing smile formed on her lips. She liked reading him.

“Nope! I just don’t understand why they fancy writing stuff that is far from reality.”

“Because it’s called fiction for a reason you know.” She mocked unintentionally. He opened his eyes and caught her staring back at him attentively. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“I like it real.” He remarked after a long pause.

“Well it is real, depends on how you want to see it. Always about perspective.” She further chipped in.

Taking a deep breath, he stood slowly, straightened his crisped shirt and walked towards where she was seated on the carpeted floor. She raised her head at him, confusion crossing her features for the slightest of seconds. He reached her in a few long strides and sat across her on the carpeted floor. Comfortably seating himself across of her. Crossing his legs, he crunched down a little to meet her eye level and observe her for a moment.

“So you agree to their lame stereotypical and cliché, substandard plots?" He asked her curiously and saw how her eyes deepened it's shade when she continued staring back at him, confounded.

"Bad boy falling in love with the good girl, a billionaire with the poor, perfectionist with the imperfection, extrovert with the introvert, opposites attract and all that delusional crap?” He further elucidated.

She blinked at him, taking her time to make sense of what he was saying or how precisely accurate he was with his viewpoint. He was right, there was no reality in any of that, at least not to them.

“But the attraction does happen-.” She tried to argue for the sake of defending the authors she loved reading, “but doesn’t last.” He finished for her with a serious expression crossing his features.

“Which is why they never write about what happens after the big decision is taken. ‘Staying together for the rest of their lives’ happen. I mean they’ll never write about how all these differences that make you fall in love or infatuation in the first place, later turn into reasons of making you fall out of that same love. And people do fall out of love as normally as they fall in love. So, it’s unrealistic to me.” He said with a sore expression. She chuckled.