Wordsworth's fallacy

A solitary girl, standing in the middle of a drizzle against any backdrop with her back to you, comes closest to a pure idea. You should not slap a face or a narrative on her. Else, what was poised on the brink of sublime will break and she will turn around and end your selfish fantasy.

I loved her as a little brother should. She wanted to be a doctor. She wanted a slight encouragement that would let her try one last time. I was with her that night when the teacher she revered, crushed her soul right outside of that apartment. While coming back in the middle of a rainstorm we decided never to speak of that evening again as the rain was not enough to wash away the tears. She is the elder sister to my oldest friend.

My cousin lost her mother while she was still a toddler. Her stepmother did not have any children of her own, but did not really warm up to her. She grew up sleeping on the sofa and got married while I was barely ten years old. I got caught up in moment and cried with the whole family while she rode off to her in-laws' place on a monsoon afternoon. Later I found out that she was criticized in our family discreetly for not shedding a drop of tear.