Baby It’s Cold Outside

I saw her on the middle of a deserted road. It was raining and she looked a bit dazed. She was looking hither and thither in worry. May be she was crying, but the tears fell off her cheeks disguised as the rain. She wore a perfect dress, violet with hint of black, perfectly complimenting the colour of the sky. Her eyes were looking for someone but the feet were tired. She seemed so blue and scared, I felt like walking upto her and offer to help. I walked upto her and saw her face clearly for the first time. She looked pretty with puffy eyes possibly with all that crying. I asked her if she needed any help. Looking down, she tucked her wet hair behind her ear and gave a shivering nod. She was cold so I gave her my jacket. We walked past a coffee shop and decided to have some hot coffee. A blessing indeed! She told me she was new in town and had no one to call a friend. I smiled and gracefully offered to be one. I dropped her off at her apartment walked off with a smile. 

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The Girl in The Valley

Close your eyes, just listen to me. Hush, don’t say a word. I have got a story to tell you. 
Once there was a girl, and the girl was all alone. Not really though. But in her mind she was. She had a world of her own that nobody knew of. A world inspired by her dreams. Champagne, scotch, whiskey and chocolates and cupcakes and cigarettes. Big house over by the lake, wide windows overlooking the vast expanse of woods barricaded by the mountains at the horizon. 

Every dusk she’d sit by her window, push the chair back, legs up on the edges of the railing and with a glass of the best Pinot noir coupled with a box of cigarettes in her hands. There she’d sit for hours as she watched the sun hide and the stars come as high up as one can imagine. 

She’d sit on her chair, rocking it gently looking outside her window, counting stars and the cigarette butts. If you could look at her, you’d see the night sky being reflected from her big eyes. If you could look at her, she’d smile a little, raise a toast for you and then get back to her drinking. At least that’s how I imagine it. 

She takes shower every night before bed, leaving her lipstick stained glass behind. She sits in the tub as the candle partially lights up her face. In that intense light you can read her face. Know what she’s thinking. It seems she’s waiting. Waiting for another lonely soul, with a thing for wines and cigarettes. With perfect getaway plans. The most appropriate surprises and the most spontaneous plans. She waits for a soul to be her escape, a soul to steal her from the real world. 
She hopes to find a day dreamer just like her and with that hope she cuddles the pillow on her bed and sleeps peacefully.