WRONG IDENTITY_Moonlit Passage_The other half of it_Attached to a string
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WRONG IDENTITY
You never know what life has to offer you. In fact, I think it was Forrest Gump that www.onedoor.ccsaid, ‘Life is like a box of chocolates… you don’t know what you’re gonna get.’ I’d just got home from the grocery store and was unpacking the vegetables neatly in the vegetable compartment when I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I went to the window to see who it could be? I wasn’t expecting anyone to visit or expecting my husband home so early. Peeping behind the blinds, I saw two burly men in gray suits get out of a police car. They looked very official but were wearing dark sunglasses that reminded me ...
Moonlit Passage
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Bright yellows and oranges, as crisp as the late October air. Yet the conditions were not cool enough to prevent the mental combustion that was looming inside my head. The sun had just set, so the sky was a light gray transitioning to a smoky color. It was a few minutes past seven and suddenly I remembered the shop closed at eight. We’d have to be quick. Having been trapped at home the last seven months, it’s hard to believe how much had changed in my life and the lives around me. Most of it seemingly beyond my doing as I’d done nothing m...
The other half of it
A long time ago I left my hometown Caracas to live in the countryside and now I have returned. Over forty years passed and, although the city looks the same, many an old building has been demolished and a new one built, others have been just renovated giving them a nicer look.I was enjoying my recent retirement and since I had nothing better to do but sightsee, I decided to take a long walk from Chacaito, where I was residing at the moment to Petare, almost nine kilometers, something that I did almost daily during my preteen years, while living in the same area.It was still early in the morni...
Attached to a string
I loved the ghungroos on the string, it reminded me of all the good times I had in my life. ARYAMAN had made it when we were in Kashmir. When we visited here, he would become a full time Romeo. Making bouquets, biryani, thupkas and sometimes even ponchoe for me. In the day he used to be busy writing songs and in night he would sing them for me. He wasn't ARIJIT SINGH but the rawness in his voice was like honey to my ears. Now this cottage is empty, but is filled by chilled winds. It was not easy for me to make the decision, it was never easy for me. I sold everything, returned everything back ...