It was perfect, just like it always had been. There was no awkward silent moment, no hiccups mid-sentence, nothing. I think I had secretly hoped it would be a little strange, considering it had been four years since we had spoken face to face. But this was just like the old times, as perfectly simple as always. No hands were held, no kisses shared. But it was that randomness that had been retained over time, the enjoyment of surreal conversation. And he gave me that. I was not forced to talk much, except in reprimanding him over certain artistes he listened to these days. Other than that, it felt moronic not to talk. I dropped him to the auto, and in that, he dropped me home. It wasn't even formal. You couldn't call it that because it wasn't quite that with us even now. It felt at home, to say the least. Even four years hence, I think I'd still allow myself to be myself only around you.
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