It was one of those hot and humid afternoons when the entire city seemed to have slowed down for a siesta. The summer heat seeps so deep into the skin that hours after the sun has set, I could still smell the sun on my clothes. I walk on the overhead bridge at a railway station, almost empty, except a couple standing in the far corner, away from prying eyes, with their respective handbags open which they were rummaging thru rather eagerly to find something. The way their hands stumbled made me notice, they were both blind. I walked on in a deliberate slowed pace, the hopeless romantic in me piqued and saw a smile spreading on the man’s face as he found what he was looking for. A pen which he held up like a trophy of achievement. As he held on to the pen and continued to grin (unfortunately the women could not see his sparkling eyes, or maybe she heard them sparkle) the woman too found her pen. There were coy giggles as they exchanged their pens, touching each others’ fingers just a moment longer than necessary. The breeze blew, providing a much needed moments respite from the sweltering heat and an old man played on his flute a melody so beautiful that it hurt.