On February 14th, I woke up to a text from my ex-boyfriend. Turns out, he was getting married. Not to me, of course, but I was invited to the wedding.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECEAmanda sat in her lucky emerald green dress at her favourite Chinese restaurant staring at the man she’d been on a date with.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECEMaya angrily slammed her fists on the bar counter, roughly taking a seat and ordering a whiskey. She was going to get inebriated tonight.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECE“Face the wall.” The homeless man says while pointing a gun at us. All ten company vice presidents, including me, do not hesitate to obey.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECE“Peter, could you get the door?”, Sara shouted over Michael Bublé playing in the background. The Johnsons were decked out in their finery. A horrible year was finally coming to an end.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECEWe always met at the same spot. The neatly laid out bench in the middle of a worn-out park. I would always wear formals — with shirts and pants of contrasting colours.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECERohan is a 20 something, typical NRI frat-dude, who is back in his country because of the pandemic.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECEThe strong winds whizzing through her bedroom’s window were posing a challenge for the sharp metal blades.
READ THE ENTIRE PIECEHe was at the bakery wondering what would satisfy his wife’s sweet tooth.
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