She was late for work. She tried to hurry out of the lift of her building, bag in one hand, breakfast in another. Adulting was hard. Ugh! She walked towards the society gate with hurried steps. As soon as she had stuffed her mouth with the sandwich she held, she called home. It was a daily ritual. This was the only time she got where she could call her parents almost in peace. A couple auto-rickshaws stopped in front of the gate hoping she wanted an auto. She took a right from the gate and started walking along the pavement. She liked to walk in the winter mornings. The breeze chilled her face but sun rays beamed on her at irregular intervals from between the tall, green trees. She was arguing with her mom about having forgotten to cover her super-sensitive-to-winters throat with a stole when she saw a baby, about two years old, dressed in the kind of pink fluffy winterwear they have for kids these days. The kid was going round and round and round looking at its pink shoes clad feet. I...
A fresh start at writing. Yes, again! Thanks to my procrastinating skills. Although, I am sure, this will be more spontaneous than my last effort, considering I scribble a lot these days. Comparatively! :P