It is almost as if you have just stretched through the veil of time and set off a trigger that works on the premise of remembrance – of a smile, a smirk, the toss of the head or some quirk that you have stored away in memory as an associative remnant.
She works at one of those big, grey publishing houses nestled in the swank New Cantonment. Sometimes, she would rush out during the break to walk with me in the deserted park nearby, sandwich carefully wrapped in a paper napkin.
The IHM Chronicles Series
On My Nightstand
Tweets and Chirps !
Follow @sonisomarajan on Twitter