short fiction
Right before the end, reality had become a bad sci-fi movie, the kind you watch at four in the morning, unable to sleep, unable to turn the T.V. off.
The Maoists aren’t a ‘tribe’, though some of them might be tribals. The C.R.P.F. certainly isn’t. Which tribe hunts for a monthly salary?
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It was the summer before her final year of college when Vaidehi first saw Suresh Babu.
Her joints are stiff, but it’s nothing to worry about. It’s her natural condition.
Alice pressed her palm to the cool glass as her husband snipped away at the fabric that would form his fourth hat that week.
Maybe it wasn’t her love that was strange. Maybe it was Grandpa’s.
When she sipped from the flowers, she would make sure that her wings were stretched out and displayed properly for him.
You don’t know me but I have lived a lifetime with you.
The man’s voice had reached where his hands couldn’t have.
Bright lights flash about her, and the city steeps in her lap for an unexpected reunion.
What does her smile look like? Does she have crooked teeth like me? Do her eyes crinkle up when she smiles?