| 'Time' Series: Book One |
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The workings of her brain were a mystery to her own pneuma.
That's what Hinduja Rao always thought.
But, quite similar to her thoughts about her own self, was someone else around her.
Her newly wedded husband, the...
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Word Count : 1000
Song : Her eyes, her curls, her smile | Hridayam |
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25 | Dear Diary (13/05/2013)
May 13, 2013
Monday,
4:00 p.m.
Dear Diary,
Breaking my decade-old chain of visiting the maple tree grove only on Sundays, Fridays, and Tuesdays, here I am, on a regular Monday, hiding cautiously under the familiar old canopy of vivid reddish-orange maple leaves, hoping to finally invoke some happiness in my eyes with a glimpse of her-after four long years.
The hollow of the old red maple tree doesn't exactly welcome me into its tiny-looking, humble cabin with open arms, courtesy of my extremely 'tiny' body structure. But then, I shamelessly squeeze my generous twenty-two-year-old derriere inside its compact embrace, while the other parts of my body, along with my head, spread outside the hollow like the tentacles of a half-dead octopus.
To someone erect on their feet far away from the maple grove, it will more or less appear as if I am defecating the remains of overly 'tasty' and dehydrated kidney beans my mother cooked yesterday night inside the poor little maple tree hollow.
Anyway, now that I am quite 'comfortable' in my hiding place with my diary and a pen in my hands, my specs-enhanced gaze falls on the bright emerald foliage of the Gulmohar tree around seventy to eighty meters away from me.
