He was so typical, so was I. We never planned on making it a love saga but since when does life sit on a comfertable couch listening to your awful attempts at happiness?
There stood two shackled rambles on the street of Verona. Where Romeo-Juliet belonged to well-off families, the not yet Romeo and the not yet Juliet lived in sorry excuses of houses. The exact piece of blue cloth held up on sticks and the similar look of poverty showered upon the humble dwellings. We ate whatever we got from the streets or begging.
Starting with the cliched - Once upon a glorious day, as I sat down on my chair (basically a brick) with a knife in my hand, ready to slash my wrists, I heard a a rap on my cloth door.
"Come in." I presumed it was the local cat Remus. What can I say? I was crazy at times.
"Do you have a bandage?"
I turned around to meet a guy with olive, tanned skin and the smokiest grey eyes suiting the rainy skies of London or that's what the tourist posters showed me. I knew him to be my neighbour of ten years. The guy who'd never glanced. The one who never cared to socalize with me. The next door human who didn't believe in neighbourly acts.
"Why do you need one?" I asked.
"To cover the slits you make on your wrist. We can't have precious blood spilt now, can we?"
"What?"
"Life is as fragile as a girl's heart. It breaks when harsh storms occur. Instead of cutting your skin, let's cut these pieces of bread and satiate ourselves."
I looked at him gobsmacked as he went outside and brought another brick to sit by me. We did eat bread.
That's how the stranger next door became my acquaintance.
That's the first part of insanity for you guys.