The Girl in Gray

This is about a girl I used to know a while back, it gets even better because I still happen to know her. Romantic-esque nostalgia is overrated, so yeah go choke on that, Coldplay! We became friends over strange circumstances. I believe back when you could add details on Facebook on as to how you knew the friend, I happened to have added quite the animated description. She wrote back and it somehow began from there. I won’t run you through the details, and I will not use cheap artisan illusions to portray grandeur of my word usage.

I will however rather shamelessly remember the highlights of our friendship that makes it modestly special. There was that awkward 10 seconds pause when she asked me to buy her a drink. Also the random trip to the root of all evil in education in third world countries otherwise known as The British Council. The spontaneous going to the movies afterwards and watching Spider-Man 3 will not be remembered because the movie was so great. By the way, I still think my shoulder was slightly more comfy than the plastic coated synthetic cushions on the CNG.

When it was not the little details of the not so spectacular exploits (I’m conventionally British sometimes as a writer yes), it was the larger differences in traits that set her apart (Also, by exploits I was referring to smuggling her from one end of the city to the center and back again on a public transport). A non-conformist would be a cliché, and I would not waste lines in comparison. But till today she is the only one that taught me not to appear imposing and rather learn when to pull back on a suggestion. And I would’ve thanked her as to have taught me on how not to be conventionally insistent, had I been able to apply such patience towards other of course.

This is not where I say I’ll remember the lazy nights in that month of Ramadan where Sehri was an excuse to just stay awake and talk. Talk and never run out of things to say, and even when we did it never really mattered. Nope, it’s not a nostalgic memoir. There’s only one person who’ll ever read this and understand any bit of this, and ironically I’m talking about her. Anybody else can possibly care less, I continue my journey as a non-conformist.


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