romantica . a poem/story She stood there in the bookstore, looking through the books. A soft brown braid lay loosely on her shoulder. Earphones in her ears and her phone in her pocket. She looked at me, who was looking at her and smiled, her white teeth glimmering. Falling in love with the same person again and again... I was a romantica. For her. this is kinda bad tbh idk why i wrote it :sob: bye bye
