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Déjà vu.

You want to clutch his hand as tightly as you can and whisper that you love him. This is what mountains do to you. You want to believe that you love him more or less like the mountains. Ha ha. You feel like the Hindi songs have started making sense, for once. Previously they were just a bunch of melodious melodies that made you reminisce about travels. But now you can relate.
You clutch his hand as tightly as you can, not wanting to let go. Ever. “Uss pahado mein ek nasha tha. Aur woh nasha pyar tha.” You believe it, thinking that your love story will end up like the one they show on movies. You listen to the same song on loop; countless times. You’re absolutely convinced that he’s beside you waiting to support your head when you fall asleep on the moving car.
The battery of the phone suddenly dies because you hadn’t charged it enough and also because you have been using it to play the same song for too long. Your hands clutch thin, cold air. You realise that you have never been in love, and everything that you had just imagined was a fragment of your imagination of how love should be. The search continues. The search for love continues.

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