Growing up and old in the rich and slightly wildered jigsaw valley, walled up by mighty hills, in the quietness of unending nature, jam-packed with towering trees, with the moody weather, sometimes in fury, sometimes in a breeze, Zoya used to love the sudden cloudburst on a sunny day and the sunshine gleaming through the soft and silky mist. She loved the unplanned, the spontaneity of it. Her love was fair too because the spontaneity loved her back as much. It never failed to amaze her with its spell and unconstraint compassion.
But her big dreams demanded some planning. Zoya had to leave the wilderness and enter the city. The city, where level wide roads were fenced up by towering buildings on the side, jam-packed with cars and big buses, and wrapped up with routine weather. But Zoya was still spontaneous as the wild. She could adjust to almost anything in no time.
It was a beautiful Saturday evening. She was leaning by the rails, with her lover and a glass of wine by her side, in the coziness of the balcony facing the starlit sky, feeling the breeze as it went brushing her face and blowing her locks, and smiling inside for she was in love that was just deep and right.
She was the same though. Spontaneous as the wild. She couldn’t plan this time too. And she expressed her love, being a little skittish and a little shy.
Confused he said, he had no plans as such.
He asked, why can’t we just have fun?
She didn’t have an answer. Alas, she realized that unlike her, her lover was a big planner.
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