The clutcher and the bun

It’s been a long time. The only thing he remembers of her is her long long hair.

Tied up into a huge bun, it almost looked as if a small, pretty face pasted on a big mass of hair.

When she let it loose – god, when she let it loose…

Somehow he always found his fingers running into her locks and pressing open the clutcher.

The bun was what the society wanted her to be. But the open hair was what he loved – her wild, carefree, and irreverent side – which was only reserved for people who were allowed to run their fingers into her locks – him.

Alas! That one time, the clutcher was too tight and despite his best efforts, he could not demolish the bun. 

It’s been really a long time. And some part of him is still quite lost in the swaying motion of her open hair.

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