‘Being attackable is being lovable in every possible way’  was the last thing I wrote before I placed the pen I was holding down the round table beside the window. The spectacles I was wearing soon followed the pen and made a soft clack as it hit the wooden table. I lifted my elbows to rest them on both sides of the notebook sitting on that very table. I looked outside the window, not really taking in the beauty presented outside, as I squeezed my brain to come up with even just another line.

In my hands rests a book, that very book I started writing more than a year ago. This book was the key to the success I’m living this very moment, the very fulfillment of my dream, the fruit and proof of my life itself. I wouldn’t have made it this far if I continued staring out the window back then.

I stared, stared and stared, but writer’s block seemed to love my company since it was very reluctant to leave my side.

Then, another soft clack was heard as something hit the table once again. I didn’t know what it was that made the sound but I knew exactly who caused it. I was more than aware that once I turned my head to the source of the noise, I would be distracted more than I already was. But, something, which worked in the same manner as the north and south pole of two magnets, made my head turn. I gazed, first, at the white cup of tea, then up to the very source of the recent interruption, the thoughtful person who made me a cup of tea, the owner of the sweetest smile my eyes could look at, the one occupying the largest department in my heart, in my life and in everything I have, the only addiction I would never get rid of, the love of my life, Die.

I couldn’t help but smile as our eyes met before he took a seat in front of me. I broke our eye contact as I run a finger through the rim of the cup before actually taking a sip of the brown liquid. When I looked back at him, he still had his million dollar smile on. We exchanged affectionate stares for a little while before he stood up, leaned forward and reached for the window. The next thing I knew, my tea had a couple of little petals from the blooming sakura tree outside. The breeze brushed over my face ever so lightly, carrying a long with it bits of that very beauty I had neglected. It was then that I conquered the big block ahead of me.

I wonder; is it the soft breeze, the little petals, the brown tea, the white cup, the spectacles, the wooden table or the pen that changed my life? Whichever it is, that thing must be compensated for its good deed.

I lean forward to catch Die’s lips in mine. When we break off, he gives me a confused look but there is no denying the satisfaction written on his face.

‘What was that for?’

I pretend to be offended through a pout. “Am I not allowed to kiss you anymore?”