Portrait

It happened in Sector – 18. That’s one busy street. Buses ply on either route to every corner of the city. Few even cross the highway to the capital.

I used to sit by a table selling tobacco and they had come from the other side. It was a make-shift stand; I was from the village and had little money. Two guys came from the wrong side, smacked below the neck and disappeared grabbing her chain the early morning fog. Here, the fog is mostly dust from the constructions.

Right away I wound up the stall. The police would come, I knew. Ask questions. Hooking on just about whoever they find. I went to my room, cleaned it up for the first time having nothing else to do and didn’t get out until evening when the dust had settled.

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