Springwalk (part 2)

continued from Springwalk Part1

In the months that followed, his late nights lengthened to wee hours of morning when he would lie back on his bed, with a smile, remembering her latest take on corrupt politicians stand against globalisation or the girly talks about hair care products and funky electronic items. He couldn't help himself from spiralling into her wonder world, she was funny zesty and vivacious. She didn't see him for the lab-rat he was. She saw him for his wit and sarcasm, and his knowledge in and out of net sphere and his takes on movies and daily life. They fought multiple time. She didn't liked him downloading movies from pirate sites. She called him thief and he hated it. She convinced him to buy records thus making eBay his homepage and a huge dent in his pocket. But she was happy, and that was a lot to him. She believed in global village. Everyone should be friends, she said. She endorsed branded clothing. She changed him externally and internally. A lot. To a point when even the people in real world started noticing him for his cool attitude and style statements. He didn't became the jock, but it was still better than the speck of dust he previously was. She won every arguments, but he didn't resented it. She was right every single time.

Once his room mate, who only talked to him when his gang was out or his mobile phone was quiet, asked him whether he was in love with springheels. He laughed at that. Yes, he loved her, more that he could comprehend. Like his unborn twin, his conscience, like grandma's hugs, evening breeze, like the gurgling voice in a baby's laugh, like midnight rains.. She was beautiful. He felt it in his bones even though he had no idea whether her eyes were brown or her skin was fair. She was his best friend. His life.

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On the 18th of July, as usual, he talked to her for 5 hours, from 11pm to 4am, and said good night reluctantly and looked at his cold bed while shutting down his computer.

************

In another part of the city, the night watchman yawned outside the Ideas.Inc server building, where springheels resided, like millions of other bots, designed for the specific purposes to cater the growing demand for marketing tactics.

The End

Writer's (that is me :D ) Notes- This came to my mind one day while @i_nemo complained about random bots in twitter. After first part, i had serious thoughts of making it a regular love story, as i was too much in love with springheels myself. But i think this is better. I might be lame, but this is a serious attempt at being lame. Please leave comments :)