“Will you ever be able to like a person?” my friend asked.
“I like many people. What kind of a question is that?”
“You know what I mean!”
I sighed and replied – “In this world that you call real? Never.”
I looked at my bookshelf and silently thanked all the books for totally screwing up my life. Because the world I lived in seemed fictional. And theirs real. I only liked them; only loved them.
But I was happy.
I think books are the only thing keeping me sane during this period of quarantine. They definitely deserved a post.