‘On 13 september, 2002, 31 year old James Padgett, a furniture salesman from Washington, was beaten and mugged by two men after leaving a karaoke bar. He survived the vicious attack, but was left unconcious, and sustained a severe concussion. Soon afterwards, he noticed that his vision changed.he also realised he had developed remarkable mathematical abilities. ’ 

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 It seemed that all life had abandoned the place. There was nothing but silence around. A still, horrifying kind of silence, sucking the life out of everything that was left, unnoticed and lonely, left behind by time, to choke within it‘s own agony, anxiety and regrets. The rain began to pour down. The gushing ice cold winds trembled the trees, and the thunder shook the earth. The park was solitary. The only sound one could hear was the rumbling noise coming from the grey sky, and the pale rustling sound of the dead leaves, scattered all around. 

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Things went as usual, I initiated talks with Kritika, struggled to find more ideas to discuss and extend the time I had with her. These useless efforts of mine sometimes made me sad and think of myself and my dignity. But even if I wanted to I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop, not because I loved her (Yep, I loved her, took me a while to realize) but because I feared the agony I had to suffer from if my cravings to look at her weren’t satiated.

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Did I tell you that precocious lovers are moody?


I realized that Kritika wasn’t much interested in me, the fact that I always had to initiate the conversations and had to strive to keep them going on (because she didn’t ever had anything to say) made me conclude that I had no chance with her.

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