They have never met in person. He writes poetry, and she weaves short tales. Their verses reached each other through the internet. His profile was visible to the world, and hers hid behind the long curly winding magical tresses, which with a hint of annoyance covered her countenance.
In the beginning, his poetry had a tinge of gloominess and her stories had heart-wrenching ends. And soon his poetry had shades of her deviant looks and hers transformed to some fairy tales. They didn’t show, nor they did convey, but they were in love
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