The beginning

Every memorable romantic story usually have an incident, something that struck out as different, albeit the smallest detail. A coincidence where the girl's character links with the boy and that moment will be accompanied a lovey dovey song and the scene will be played in slow motion. If one were to describe a story, the words would be, "Do you know the story where this girl..." and they will fill the details from the scene, right to the moment the wind blows the girl's hair languidly.

Well, here is my story and the scene did began with the wind blowing at my face. Hot winds of summer.The hot gust worsens the dry atmosphere of my room, when I decided to close the window. Incidentally a friend of mine decided it was a good day for her plant to get a dose of sunlight, where she decided my windowsill as her best option. Only after I closed the window did I realised the suddenly missing pot. I quickly open my window and there the scene played slow motion, as I watched it fall, and much to my horror a person walking three storeys below me.

Maybe it would have turn out differently if I didn't gasp. Oh, well.

***

To make it clear, let me start from the beginning of the beginning. Well, not really that beginning, just early enough to help me write. There is never enough detail for me to describe about myself, not that I can't think of any of those but simply I think that they can clearly be seen in a sweep of an eye. Just the normal. Female, young adult, Caucasian etc. Other than that I find nothing of interest about me that relates to the story, other than details of my background. My apartment is



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