Continued from Nostalgia III
She was the perfect girl with the perfect tastes, with the perfect friends, the perfect life. She was a mirror image of Bidyut when it came to interests. And that made it worse.
If Bidyut wrote a poem, she'd eventually write a better one.
If Bidyut cracked a joke, her add on or comment would make people laugh harder.
If he liked painting at times and made something he thought was brilliant. Her's would make his jaw drop.
If he scored a 99, she'd score a 100.
She was the rain that poured down on his few minutes of sunshine.
She was the perfect daughter, the perfect friend, the perfect girl ...the kind that would make guys fall head over heels and break their necks and what not. The kind that would make the most self destructive sorts love themselves, quit smoking , drive safe and remember dates in an instant. The kind that people doted on and guarded like their very own.
If God had to make a female version of himself and cancel out all the imperfections, make a few upgrades, she'd be the result.
He hated it.
They'd known each other since they were 4. And boy did he hate her. He hated her then, he hated her now.
She broke his train set. She pulled his hair. Then with time, she made fun of his drawings. She would randomly quote his writings and poke fun at him. Everything he worked hard at and took seriously, she didn't. And she'd do it better. Life was unfair.
Parents friends and everyone who fell in between would constantly talk about the both of them.They talked about how similar they were. How brilliant they both were. But at the end of it, if they had to pick, they'd pick her. They celebrated their differences. Of course all this , never in front of them.
He hated it. Perhaps it was an ego issue. Perhaps not. He had never met anyone so infuriating. Yet, it seemed as if he was the only one with anything against her.
And to top it all. She was pretty.
Then all of a sudden without warning, the right side of his face turned hot.