Notes from the past

Scraping through my old notebooks, today I stumbled upon some interesting piece-meals of notes - written on the way of "learning to write" and ofcourse they carry a deep impression of writers that I was reading at that time (almost copying the style :) ) but this scene did come about okay, isnt it?
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He sat amidst children’s party at her home. Though in exuberant surroundings, he felt too dull and aloof. Even in a group of children of his own age, he felt himself alone and different from all others. His silent watchful manner had grown upon him and he was rarely a participant in the games. The children were throwing knee slappers, inventing new games, dancing and chattering noisily, and though he tried hard to share their mirth, he felt gloomy. But then someone pulled him to the dance floor and he too tried some steps. After doing his part, he retarded safely to a snug corner and slowly he started to taste the joy of his solitude. The joy, which in the beginning of the party seemed useless to him, now seemed refreshing as he let the breeze pass through his spirits and absorbed deep down in himself. She was standing at the other corner of the room and his heart lighted up as her glance traveled towards his side crossing the myriad of dancers. Though she was far away, he was sure to have heard every word out of her mouth; to have lived a thousand lives in her eyes; to have known her in past and reveries. He felt excited, flattered, tainted and insulted by her glaring eyelashes and fairy smiles.

All were wishing her goodbye and putting on their cloaks: the party was over. She walked towards him and asked if they could walk home together. She took a shawl over her head as he put on his sweater and they both walked towards their home. It was dark outside and not many people were to be seen. A light rain had started. Her face glowed amidst falling drops of water. She walked besides him as he felt the warmth of her breathing, her arms brushing with his; his heart leaped at every movement of hers. He listened to everything that she said and he heard everything that she did not. The gentle tap of her sandals, the rain drops falling on her hair: he heard and saw those moments thousand times and knew he had been walking beside her since the life started. No sound broke the silence of the night save the barking of the stray dogs as she, feeling a bit afraid, clutched his hands. He knew she liked him. She would often come up to him for talks though most of the times they remained silent. He wanted to tell her how his heart too yearned for her.

Should I hold her in my arms, should I kiss her? He thought. But he did nothing as they approached the point where she had to turn for her home. He stopped as he still held her hands in his. She looked into his eyes and he heard all the thousand tales that they said beneath their cowl. She said thanks and slowly pulled away her hands. He saw her going away from him and had an urge to run towards her when she turned behind and waved her hands. He smiled and started his walk towards his home.

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