Little story, short story

Lol. This was nothing serious. I just wrote this to make a friend realize one can write just about anything. We laughed at this stuff later. Here it goes –

She was a girl. I was a boy. I had never met her nor heard her. I only visualized her through the photographs I saw of her. And then one day she called me and her voice was like music. Good music mind you. The kind of music I liked. But then I realized I liked all kinds of music so probably it was a judgement that was getting passed about her voice. But I did not care. All I cared about now was to see her talk. See her lips open and her tongue touch the palate of her mouth while she spoke. And the teeth. Those glorious white teeth like diamonds that were just waiting to be touched. But I could not touch them. So I was sad. But happy in a sad way. Her tongue was so red and her voice was so heavy in a girlish way. I liked voices like that. Voices that weren’t like pikachu was given a voice translator. I liked her voice. I would give anything to make her say my name over and over again. Maybe next time I’ll record her voice and sleep with my earphones on. And find myself in a visual ecstasy filled with dancing tongues, frolicking teeth and the background score of her voice. Im happy in this moment to have known her, to have heard her, to have seen her. And I am hopeful that one day that voice will be mine. That not a moment will go by that I won’t hear her. That I will anticipate her calls(in a very passive way so as not to disturb my work) just to hear her say my name but till then I am going to put on some funk music and jiggy with it.

The end.

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