The girl with the curly hair


She stood at the reception of the clinic, listening to the guy talking to her very attentively. I was in the waiting area, sitting on a black leather couch, waiting for my friend, reading a book. She faced the other side, I couldn’t see her face. All I could see was her long brown hair, swaying with the breeze like the waves of an ocean at dusk, reflecting a beautiful orange. Every time she laughed, she tilted her head a little. And with every tilt of her head, my heart skipped a beat. What am I doing? I was supposed to read my book, which I’m so in love with. But here I am, going bonkers over a girl whose face I haven’t seen, who I haven’t even talked to! How I would give away anything just to look at her once, to meet her gaze, to look into her deep eyes for a second and let her know how I feel. Am I crazy? I thought I loved books more than girls! The buzzer at the reception cuts through my flow of thoughts and brings me back to reality. Where is she? Has she gone in? Or has she left? My eyes wander through the hall, searching for her, hoping she would walk through the door again, for something she might have hopefully forgotten. I wait, but she doesn’t come back. May be this was it. May be it was just another slow two minutes of my life, which will play a hundred more times in my head, but slower than normal, at every curl that ruffled, at every flash of sunlight that reflected, and at every beat my heart skipped.

Inspiration: My friend’s long curly hair!

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