Hart was a loner by day and alone by night. he nearly always kept to himself. Never ventured to share his pains with another. Never tried to make friends. But was careful not to loose the ones he had. His only companion were his books. He read like he breathed. He ploughed through books all day with spy and war novels and rocked himself to sleep with old classics. His only other passion was his ride. A rugged monolith of a bike that was the apple of his eye.
Being the loner he was, he had a 'spot' that he felt was his. It was a lonely shade under a lonely tree in the middle of what can be described in ease as 'no where'. He felt the spot. He felt himself in this spot. This where he escaped from the rustic life of his. This is where he consoled himself for all the mistakes. This is where he did it all, collect and arrange his thoughts. But he liked best to read under the shade of this tree, with the breeze helping him turn his pages. The scent the breeze carried from the surrounding wilderness was a song of its own. He nearly forgot himself in his spot, lying on his bike, feet dangling carelessly over the back and his head rested fimly between the bars in front.
He loved being lonley here. He never feared solitude and appriciated it for its uniqueness. His friends always made fun of his habits. they never knew where he went or what he did. They knew it had to do something with his bike and his nauseating number of books. He never cared, for he was a loner. He frequented this place a lot. Atleast one every 3 days. Most days with his books and if he ran out of books, he came there to doze on his bike.
This was just like any other day. he was dozing on his bike, having just finished his second book fr that week. He felt a prickling feeling down his spine. Like someone was watching him. He turned around and through the bushes noticed saw the breeze blow a flock of dark hair into his sight. It was followed by a pleasent pink skirt that flowed with the breeze till it got tangled in the bushes. Unable to tolerate something so elegant get caught in the bushes, he involuntarily reched out from where he was, hoping he could relieve the flowing dress. He then noticed the prettiest pair of pale brown eyes accetuated by the best pair of eyebrows. They, along with the tear drop shaped mouth, made her face look like the prettiest thing he ever saw.
She saw that he noticed her presence and came towards him. "I've seen you here a lot", she sang melodiously. "Ya. This is MY spot", he retorted, not meaning to hurt her. She turned and tried to flee, just as he responded with "Sorry, but I did not expect you here. I am Hart". "Lavender", she sang back, thrustng her fragile palm towards his. "You read a lot", she said rhetorically and tried to catch the name of the book he was using to shield the stray ray of sun that was disturbing his slumber. "Battle Cry by Leon Uris", he said anyway and showed her the book. "Its the best I've read so far. Its about a .........".
Thus it all started. Hart and Vee, as he called her, met whenever he rode there. Howmuch ever he tried, she would not come back to the city with him. He would read to her from his most recent books. They would listen to songs together. As the the days ran into weeks, the found each others company more pleasurable. He never bothered to ask her why she came to that lonely spot. He was merely thankful. It did not take him long to realize he was missing her more than ever. When he had the guts to, and because he was never used to confiding in others, he confronted her with his feelings and asked if she felt it too. "Do you think I would come out into the jungle if I did not?", she responded, elating his thumping heart. "I am taking you to dinner with me today". It was not a suggestion. She firmly declined and elegantly sidestepped any reasons that might have roused suspicion.
Now that he did not have to take his friends into confidence, he told them about her and how they met, slyly missing out on the major details, like how long they were in the dark. He was the happiest man. Vee, the happiest man's girl. He needed to celebrate. He rode his bike, humming the tunes of his favorite songs and drumming his fingers on the trottle in beat. He decided on a cold coffee wishing he could have brought her. If only he had been a little more stubborn. He ordered the costliest drink there and had it topped with all the toppings available, it was his first time there. "Make it sweet as hell", the waiter smiled at the statement. He smiled through the entire coffee and tipped the waiter heavily. Just before he left, he overheard a mischievously sweet voice of a girl talking to an entire bunch of giggling girls. "And every other day I make him read out from his book and he reads to me like he is an enthusiastic four year old who's just learned to read!!!!". The cackle that followed sure drowned the splicing sound that his heart made when it tore.
this is just a story...i kindly ask everyone to please not draw any conclusions...i was just bored when i wrote this...i know the bike and the solitude are catchy phrases all pointing in my direction...but you should know better...