She sits on a bench by a sleepy lane, her head teeming with wandering thoughts. Blank page is her only friend. She enters into dialogue with it when the silent storm rages all through night. But her only book so far remains relatively obscure.
When she’s about to shove off, a gentleman arrives, sits by her side, takes out a book from his bag, and starts reading. She could not believe her eyes. It’s the one authored by her!
As she makes a move, she cranes her neck to re-confirm it’s not a dream. Then she gets going feeling airborne.
When she’s about to shove off, a gentleman arrives, sits by her side, takes out a book from his bag, and starts reading. She could not believe her eyes. It’s the one authored by her!
As she makes a move, she cranes her neck to re-confirm it’s not a dream. Then she gets going feeling airborne.
