I had been writing for quite a long time when i met him. And my writings i could say were good enough. I mean good in a way to catch/influence things…good in a way to flow with/dance with the words…good in a way even to get praised by some.
On the contrary he had no hands in writing, even in reading. He was not writing anything (almost anything) except a few lines rendering that he was fine. Similarly, he was reading nothing (almost nothing) except my long writings to (for) him.
After long time one day he suddenly confessed that i was a better writer than himself. At that time such a confession had surprised me as made by someone who was almost a non-writer/reader. And that particular confession had kept me satisfied for a long duration.
However, another day at the end of the story (which in books and movies usually means after he left me and went to on his own way marrying another girl) i noticed that was not true and i came to know he was a better writer than me since he wrote my fate/future in the way he wished for!
Now you tell me who is a better writer? Me or him?
P.S.: Phew…first short story of 2012 after a long interval…Anyone out there among old friends?!