SHOULD I SUFFER OR DIFFER?_Driven to Distraction_Familiar Ache_Introverted Musings
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SHOULD I SUFFER OR DIFFER?
SHOULD I SUFFER OR DIFFER? It was around 11 pm and Avinash wasn’t home and was at work, while Bhumi was talking to one of her best friends on the phone alongside crying and sobbing. And 5-year-old Raghav was sleeping in his room.Bhumi said. “I can’t handle Avinash’s bad behavior anymore.” Avantika said, “Explain it to me more clearly.”So she starts explaining to her what’s going on. She said that Avinash is a very bad husband and father. Every day he tells me to do things like he is the king and I am his servant. One thing he did was that he tells me to call his mom EVERY DAY on the phone bec...
Driven to Distraction
With space becoming more and more scarce and the world's countries finally agreeing to do something about global pollution, personal transport was no longer an option.Instead, each apartment block - there were no inpidual houses any longer either - was allocated a specified number of self-driving cars, depending on how many adults lived in that building.I was in a small building that only had six families, so there were two vehicles.There were times when there wasn't one available, so you had to walk, something too many citizens had almost forgotten how to do until recently.That may have sound...
Familiar Ache
Hurt people hurt people. It’s a line that illustrated many of my pastors’ sermons. Sure. But you know what? The truth hurts more. And the truth was that my auntie’s husband had never liked us. * You can’t say things like that; my mother snapped at the open road before us, bracing the steering wheel. She’d rebuked me for saying so for almost five years. The length of time the man I was forced to call Uncle had been playing house with my mother’s most precious little sister. It’s true though; I retaliated and then immediately regretted it. Ha! My mother scoffed incredulously; Your auntie told yo...
Introverted Musings
11/04/20 If there ever were evidence of gods worming their way through the mortal world, he would be a compelling corroboration. Gold hair, wavy and long, tucked into a bun at the nape of his neck. I wanted to reach over, past the student sitting between us, and hold it in the palm of my hand. How long did it take you to grow? I imagined myself saying. Did you know that when I look at you everything and nothing rests at the tip of my tongue? Instead I sat in my seat, my fingers interlaced on my lap, and listened to him introduce himself. When class ended, I strode out in a burst of terror, hav...