She had to refer that old calendar for her artwork, which lay somewhere in the attic. It looked tidy enough, but she couldn’t find it. Her

I was waiting for my bus and it started to rain. Out of nowhere, he got under my umbrella. The initial shock gave way to

For her it was an obsession which was growing strong with each passing day. Her days would be spent agonizing about it. Sometimes she cried,

It was just another day at work…meetings, mails and making notes from case files. I was glad that the day was coming to an end.

  I remember the day we had accidentally bumped into each other… As we picked the scattered books, our eyes met. The first thing you

I had met her last evening at our regular cafe. She was not her usual self. To the others in the group, she was just

Casually, I asked her, while we were working in the kitchen, “Where does your husband work?”   She replied, “He doesn’t work”.   “Is he