"It's just a flick."
"Aye. 't was just a flickering. Nothing more."
I always thought human hearts were supposed to be inseparably knit, but at that moment, amidst those stitches seemingly appeared a rather candid tear.
There's never any good hiding how I feel.
I was never good at it anyway. You know that.
"Alright," I said, "It wasn't just a flickering to me."
Silence. Oh!! - How tangible the silence - a subito piano, the kind in a Beethoven sonata.
But to hell with the silence. I couldn't up and tell a lie. My heart was right. It wasn't a flickering.
No - It was a full-blown memory - a cup of steaming hot chocolate with cream - and not just any cream. It was a cup of steaming hot chocolate with thick, white cream foaming over the cup's searing lips...
Well, what was the use?
Some people never read with their hearts.
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