Suryamukhi wasn’t listening either, her eyes gave it away—they reflected the sprightly fireworks of a wedding ceremony.

Rosie put down her tea cup and fiddled with the sugar-free biscuits. She wondered if that was all for dinner. She grew restless at the constant drone of the beetle and the frogs and paced around the terrace.

May be in search of a story.

I am torn between unadulterated hope and terrifying fear of death.