You’re a needle in a haystack of passersby, waiting to be found but glorifying the novelty of being left untouched. Life has been uneventful, isn’t it? You’d realize this as you look at the palm of your hand wishing you’d see the back of someone else’s hand- locking yours in a tight clasp. What’s there to it? The surges of words you’d imagine saying and feeling anything that could be felt. Now you’re relinquishing that someone from the past, trying to look back into what could’ve been the ‘now’. And while you walk with the slow music to your ears, you think about another needle in the haystack. Right now it’s just you gambling with serendipity. What are the chances really.