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you are my favourite tears

Hari_Krishnan_J
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Chapter 1 - context

In this heart-warming tale, most of our beloved characters come to life through the gentle gaze of the third-person narrator. Their radiance is so enchanting, and their emotions so vividly depicted in this perspective. As you turn the pages, you'll find yourself basking in the sheer joy that emanates from these characters, much like the delightful residue left behind by a butterfly's delicate touch on your hand. Once you've savoured every character, you'll discover an array of beautiful colours lingering on your mind – a vivid testament to the understanding of true love and the profound connection you've formed with these characters. Within the pages of this book, I've chosen to bestow a special name upon one character, a name that resonates with every reader, as it is a part of everyone's own story who embarks on this delightful journey.

Imagining new things for pure bliss and joy!!!

The thought of finishing this remarkable book fills my heart with a profound sense of purpose, a testament to how far I'm willing to journey in this beautiful life.

Just like songs that stir our souls with their complexity, this book, too, is a treasure trove of emotions waiting to be discovered! Its enchanting characters and captivating narrative filled my heart with such warmth that I wished its pages would never come to a close. The thought of bidding it farewell fills me with a longing to savour its wonderful feelings once more.

CHAPTER 1

Portrait Songbird

Beneath the starry tapestry's gentle glow,

She gazes upward, her heart all aglow,

To find her love in that cosmic expanse afar,

Or maybe, to dissolve among each shining star.

In the warm embrace of her canopy bed, a radiant girl with a cascade of thick, tousled black hair rests upon a plush cushion. One leg with socks playfully dangles onto the mattress, while the other, adorned with pink-painted toes, lightly grazes the gleaming porcelain tiles beneath.

Suddenly, iSoccer, her trusty voice assistant, booms an "Emergency operation" alarm.

As if in response with iSoccer, the pristine white curtains gracefully unfurl, allowing the morning sun to shower her with a cascade of golden glitters, accentuating the light, sun-kissed complexion.

Her eyes flutter opens slowly, and she gazes at the soft, rosy ceiling, as if she can sense someone watching over her as she sleeps. A tender smile graces her lips, and her gaze travels upward, revealing a vision of a man standing there, impeccably dressed in dark blue double-strap shoes, light green casual pants, and a crisp white shirt with sleeves casually rolled up. His face radiates a gentle glow.

With a contented sigh, she closes her eyes and greets the day with a warm, "Good Morning, Pink." In a sudden burst of energy, she springs out of bed, her hair entangled with the cotton blanket like a playful dance partner. Her eyes dart around the room like a pendulum, searching for any sign of his presence, but find none.

As she eases one foot onto the floor, a brief moment of dizziness washes over her, like a passing cloud in the vast sky of her day. She turns her gaze back to the pink wall, now a blank canvas, void of any lingering presence.

Approaching the wooden mirror frame, she beholds her own reflection, where her snow-white eyes reflect not only her inner fire but also the beautiful chaos of emotions that have swirled within.

While iSoccer's insistent alarms continue their chorus, she speaks with determination, "iSoccer, please send a message to the hospital. Let them know I'm on my way, and arrange for an Air Electric (Flying car – air vehicle) to take me there."

With each step, her day takes flight, guided by a sense of purpose and adventure.

iSoccer, the ever-helpful personal assistant, sits on the wooden dressing table, bathed in a soothing cotton blue glow. In response to her request, it replies with a cheerful "Yes, Doc Jinora. It'll be here in just 30 minutes."

As she readies herself and slips into her attire, she reclines on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling, a canvas for her playful imagination. Her fingers dance gracefully against the soft light, a whimsical game of hide and seek, casting a gentle, yellowish glow that mirrors the radiance in her sparkling eyes.

Her hands, as pure and tender as a peacock's feather, leave her contemplating. A fleeting thought brushes her mind, as if her wrist craves a missing connection, a sentiment as delicate and elusive as a dream.