"It's just a misconception among people that just because it's rare, it's not true. Just because you didn't find one doesn't make it unreal. Some people in rare, precious ways do find the love you often call true." I looked up at the crowd. "... and that's what their love was all about."
I ended my story as the crowd appreciated with smiles and claps. Some of them, I even found blushing with hopeful eyes. I nodded and thanked them.
I got up to leave as someone stopped me. Newlyweds. Hand in hand.
"Your stories are amazing. Write ours someday," they said. I smiled silently.
"No. No. She only writes fiction." My friend dismissed them quickly.
I agreed with a nod.
"I only write fiction"
But, do 1? I stared at the happy couple hand in hand.
"Like this one. It's a fiction, right?" She smiled, adding. Was it? Someone in the crowd, perhaps, knew it wasn't. I had connected
S a lot of people and relationships in my life. Some in flesh and blood. Some in the pages of history. Some in my imagination and experience. Each of them made it to my writings. In some way or another. Fragments of their lives, bits of their saga, random people I observe on a long train or bus journey. They are all part of the stories. The characters often talked and walked like people I know or assume to know or muse on. They merged with faces in my imagination. These are all their stories. As much as the words are mine.
© Suranya
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