She: What are you doing?
He: Who is innocent?
She: What?
He: I have been thinking..who is innocent?
She: A child.
He: Yes, a child..more obvious. But how long a child is child?
She: May be as long as one is innocent.
He: Are you not a child still?
She: No, I'm not. People won't call me a child. I'm 24.
He: Perhaps people won't call. But don't you think there is innocence in you?
She: (being more self-inquisitive) Me?? As for me..probably less black..more grey..may be some traces of white.
He: So..?
She: So..?
He: Is there no innocence in an endless talk?
She: May be..but if so then there is more innocence in the few words that would occupy the two minutes after the person on the other end has already slept.
He: Don't you think you can do it at 24?
She: (blushes and says) Doing it more than ever. When I was a child, my father would tell me bedtime stories. He would come closer to me, move away from me, touch me, cuddle me, stare at the roof and narrate all his adventure stories. But I never remember me hearing the whole 10-minute act any night. Yet, my dad would ask me the next morning "how was the climax?" and I would say "it was better than the previous night's story", and then he would tell me "you did not tell this when I asked you last night." I will smile and run away. Yes, there is innocence. Yes!
He: (no response from him...still no response)
She smiles, and cuts the call.
He: Who is innocent?
She: What?
He: I have been thinking..who is innocent?
She: A child.
He: Yes, a child..more obvious. But how long a child is child?
She: May be as long as one is innocent.
He: Are you not a child still?
She: No, I'm not. People won't call me a child. I'm 24.
He: Perhaps people won't call. But don't you think there is innocence in you?
She: (being more self-inquisitive) Me?? As for me..probably less black..more grey..may be some traces of white.
He: So..?
She: So..?
He: Is there no innocence in an endless talk?
She: May be..but if so then there is more innocence in the few words that would occupy the two minutes after the person on the other end has already slept.
He: Don't you think you can do it at 24?
She: (blushes and says) Doing it more than ever. When I was a child, my father would tell me bedtime stories. He would come closer to me, move away from me, touch me, cuddle me, stare at the roof and narrate all his adventure stories. But I never remember me hearing the whole 10-minute act any night. Yet, my dad would ask me the next morning "how was the climax?" and I would say "it was better than the previous night's story", and then he would tell me "you did not tell this when I asked you last night." I will smile and run away. Yes, there is innocence. Yes!
He: (no response from him...still no response)
She smiles, and cuts the call.
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