Intermitent
‘I love you.’ That was what I just said. She looked over at me with a startled face, her head slightly pulled back and her widened green eyes froze in bewilderment. My blunt confession had come off a bit too forward and so sudden that she looked stuck in between the agony of being dumbstruck and flattered as she gaped at my words. I could only stood there and took in the face she was making as if she still couldn’t quite believe what she had already heard for the third time now. “I’m sorry,” she finally spoke over the wind breezing into the chilly air—the first one to finally break the silence. She sounded very anxious. Her voice came out a little hoarse and it slightly shook as she uttered the remark. Then, she asked me again with a frown, “Who are you?” The stillness of the foggy cold
- Writer
