She keeps me awake for whole night to tell her stories. She is a crazy listener who wanna know every details of story, from between the lines to beyond the lines. The real story might happened in ten minutes but her queries will take to hours. But more than a listener she is a story teller. A very boring story she will tell you in such interesting way that can attract you attention. You are feeling sleepy but when she starts saying,” you know what happened?” and all your sleep is just gone miles away. A story you have heard hundred times already and if another person will start it again with first sentence he/she speaks you will stop him/her saying that you have told already tell me something thing new. But in her case every time you will enjoy like you have never heard before. It is not about you are not enjoying but just pretending to enjoy but actually you enjoy like it is very first time.
I’m in the middle of something doing an important work. I’m suppose to pick her call and only for her. Like a child putting her leg in between whatever you are doing and wants you to leave all and play with her. How childish acts these are. But do you know what? It never disturbed me, but always gave me a smile and some unique happiness. I don’t know and could not ever define the type of this happiness I get. I adore her these acts. I adore her childishness, I adore her being a baby doll and yes I adore her totally whatever she does.
It happens when you love her and she is your only love. If you have been busy all day in hectic office work routine. You have just arrived home and nothing you want know but to sleep. But if you encounter her, see her happy face your all tiredness will vanish in air. If she is not in your life you will go to a messy bed and will fall asleep withing no time, but she, she is like a coffee and you will be addicted. She will take your head to her lap and will start telling her stories. You will forget what you have been through whole day. You will just jump to a dream life where there is no worries and anxiety but a life of fairies. I’m telling you, you cannot start telling your story to her unless she wants herself to know something.
. . .Affection Needs. . . 