A long time ago

We used to come here on Sundays. It was the only place in the city where no one looked at us twice. Two men sitting on the grass, talking, sometimes just quiet. We'd been together two years by then. Out to each other, out to nobody else. I used to think about all the people who had stood on this same ground across centuries. How many of them had loved someone they weren't supposed to. How many of them had to be this careful. There's something about old ruins that makes you feel less alone in your hiding. Like the walls have kept bigger secrets than yours. — 27, Bhopal