No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. Celebrating Diversity Since 2015
Peter droned on and on about his client meeting, and the others put on a much more believable performance of interest than I did. Because there you were, beside the front door, zipping your coat up to the tip of your chin. How rude of you, I thought, to leave without saying goodbye.
There was a loud noise, someone dropping a chair or something and I was prepared to leap to action. The stapler in my hand became my weapon and my body jumped, preparing to push these small children behind me. Why is this the world we live in?
Ammi ki churiyan kahan hain? I’ll measure time in things I’ve held on to the longest until she notices her bare wrists.