Short stories about love : Short stories on love

Short stories about love

Short stories about love - Red Rose: Vivek's mind was struck. How could she be? Will it be beautiful? Will it be melodic? The mind asked many questions.

Short stories about love

He has known her for the last three years. But he had never seen her. However, they both decided that they would meet on that day. At 9 am at the Colombo Railway Station. Eight hours and fifty minutes from now. You can meet her in ten more minutes. The sign he had arranged to find her, she had to stand outside the Kandy ticket counter with a red rose in her hand.

The habits of the two of them were different. He once visited his friend's house and found a poet's poem on the poet Vairamuthu. When reading it, all the blanks found in the book were slim in pencil, with many notes in the grand signature. I was curious to know who wrote it. He revisited the book from the beginning. On the second page of the book was the name and address of the native, with the same signature. She must be interested in poetry. He said his mind.

He introduced himself and wrote a letter to her with a poem he knew. Will he leave it in the mail and answer it? Is not it? He was starving. Whenever the postman struck the bicycle bell outside the house, he was so excited that he had received the letter. The only reply she received was when she had cheated and abandoned hope.

When he opens the letter, his father is impressed and cannot describe it. Before he read it, he eagerly overtook him, wondering what she had written. But she did not write anything that would impress him in the letter. He was so impressed that she wrote so carefully that she did not look like a letter to a stranger who had never met someone. Yet that was enough to spark his interest.

Over the next three years, they confiscated hundreds of letters. In the meantime, Vivek was completing his high technology degree. He got a job as an engineer in Colombo. She also wrote that she had been promoted to an NGO and was pursuing her higher education.

They never even used the word "love" in their letters. However, there was a growing sense of racial difference between them. They both felt like they understood each other. His letter to her and every letter she wrote to him sprouted up in their well-nourished wetland.

All of those letters were moving toward the same point as the moving train compartments on the rails. That is the point they want to meet each other. He had once asked her for a photo of him. But she refused and wrote a reason. What if his figure is as good as he is? She asked him the question. After reading it, he was like. Would she be mistaken for herself? He was offended.

They have never been asked what their age is or what their date of birth is. But they were developing the belief that they were created for each other. Now a solution is available for all. He is going to meet with those who are burning in his mind a few more minutes today.

Once he was sure it was nine o'clock, he stepped slowly towards the Kandy ticket counter. He held the diamond-studded diamond-studded poem in his hand to identify himself to her. Then a beautiful woman approached him. A thousand colors in Vivek's mind ?????? Evident. What he had on his face was a sparkle, a wide forehead, a small lightning bolt, long eyeballs in them. She looked at him and the book he had in his hand. She tightened the look in his mind and passed him.

Vivek's mind was as if he had been struck by lightning. He turned his gaze from where she had gone and looked to where she had come from. A woman was standing there with a red rose in her hand. She is forty years old. The hair was lightly hairy. Vivek was disappointed to see her. He couldn't believe his mind... Is he your name, Devika? He asked suspiciously.

The woman smiled gruffly. Then she put the red rose flower in his hand and pointed to the ice cream parlor saying that Devika was the only girl who left the place and dressed in green and she was waiting for him in the ice cream parlor. Upon hearing this, Vivek's face began to flutter. There was a slight shyness.

His mind began to fly towards the ice cream parlor with the red rose in the sky.

Short stories about love:

Short stories about love - Window : She was counting the wire as usual. Window Wires. It was her way of seeing him through it. She was living a beautiful life through the window sills. She was sitting on the window sill with her head resting. He hasn't come yet. Only the wind grilled her face. She touched the firm rods of the window, her fingers pointing with her finger, and painted a beautiful painting. When she reached her finger, she was unaware that the wire was losing its stability. She had fallen into the painting.

She took her head off the wire. But, his college final year project came to mind. She Should have completed half of it within a week. But she continued her wait-and-see-it-again intuition, "Tomorrow may come." It was a two-year-long chapter.

Her love is as deep as the light awaiting the sunrise.

Awaiting sunrise light ?? Is that ironic ??

I do not believe that light comes from the sun. When the sun rises, the light awaiting the sun joins the sun. (The light awaiting the sunrise- she thinks.) Seeing the time of the sun, the light which hides in the night hugs the sun. Moreover. Do you know how fast ?? Speed ​​of 300,000 kilometers per second. She is amazed at the number. How light can turn off the sun so fast. When we hit the track at 60 km an hour, we hit the standing truck, turn into tar. Why so much speed? Maybe a 12-hour segment?

She, too, was waiting for a hug like that. But she failed to know the truth.

She was now waiting for the sun to set, waiting for her. The sun was losing its shine. Because the light was breaking apart. At the same time, darkness had begun to hide. She was now watching sharply, where the light was going to shine. Not hidden Just a little bit. But she did not know where. Suddenly, she remembered that he had not yet arrived.

Again, from the reclining window rod, she took her head. Darkness faded, not just light. She's too. That is why her eyes, which were starting to become wet, could not be seen by the window wire. Before her tears touched the earth, she blocked it with her hand. For her, she was blocked daily because of her tears, so that no one could witness. She was comforted by the moisture of her tears, again by the same pleasant air.

Isn't sunrise and sunset the law of nature ?? It is unreasonable to celebrate the sunrise and to suffer in vain at sunset.

It's like celebrating romance, waiting, thinking about separation. It is a natural phenomenon. In love, it is necessary to wait. That, too, is unconditional waiting. Come. Come on. Love should not fall short. It is love in itself. Life itself is the object of love. One may give up love for another. That in itself is the main purpose of love. If giving up on love, there is not much work to be done for scars and tears.

She entered the room with no light. There was nothing to light the room. The room doesn't blow light until she thinks it. How can we live our lives as long as we think... It was painful. But it was a little more tolerable because she was less painful than the pain she was experiencing.

Do not open your eyes. The room was dark. The thought of him deepened.

Why didn't he come? And that for two years? Don't appear to see me? Four other people moved into the house where he lived. Did you forget that there is a life waiting for you at this window ?? Are you relieved to know ??

I need a lot of money to save me. Have you ever felt that your love should too? Am I going to make money?

Nowadays, money is scary. It has temporarily separated many husbands and wives. How many of them are permanently separated? Thinking and looking. Eyes tremble.

The wind, through the window, gave her the impetus .. and moved her to the window again. She came near the window. But what awaited her was a disappointment. Again the wind blew her face. She wept and cried.

She prevented the tears from falling to the floor as usual. As usual, the pleasant air dried up.

"When will I see you again through this window?" She smiled lightly with wet glances, unaware of herself as I dreamed every day. But when will she realize that it is not a window, but a prison?

I know he must have turned into air. This is why she often heals her tears.

Life is for life. To wait a little, to shed a few tears, to live otherwise.

She is a sin. God, tell her the truth as soon as possible. That his life and that of his beloved were taken away a year earlier by two bullets in Yemen's terrorist attack.

When will the light coming through the window, the light coming through the light accept the maturity ??

God, who else would have said that if you left? Do you mean this window? 

These are the 2 different stories for Short stories about love. 

Thanks for reading.......