She was like that only. Physical features never attracted her, nor wealth, nor style. She was a fan of art; writing, drawing, cooking, acting, story telling.. Anything that was new or creative, magnetized her. Everything was like an open book about her. What she was, was an open secret. There was nothing hidden about her.
He was a superb artist. His thoughts gave meanings to words. A well informed & well behaved human with a mystic aura around him.... The writer of the story knows nothing more about him, is as ignorant as she was. And for readers' kind information..., the protagonist here is 'She', not 'He'. The incidence is being written from her point of view.
So it started one fine day. Dumbfounded by his magnificent creations, she extended a hand of friendship. Reason for her eagerness was completely unknown to her then. It was just that, she felt compelled to create a bridge of words between the two. Construction began. One of them poured questions, and another supplied with some answers & many more counter questions. Slowly, slowly the bridge was taking shape... foundation built, fences erected...&.. somehow, the final truth struck her.
That was the moment of awakening for one of them. The bridge was broken, then & there. He took his side, she took her's. An acquaintance was still intact. The behavior was still cordial, greetings were exchanged from both sides. What was to be said, was said. What was to be written, was written... just, that near completion bridge did not exist anymore, nor was the remains..... The protagonist visited the site sometimes.., tried to find remnants of the beautiful & glorious past.. All that had long gone.