Seven Words

So I have this habit of asking people to tell me seven words. Seven random words, they don’t need to have any correlation at all. Just seven random words , not connected to form a sentence . Then , using those seven words as a base , i try to make up a short story . (Okay , I admit , sometimes the stupidity acts up and I type gibberish , but usually , I  try my best to make sense).

A friend of mine gave me my first seven words, and this is my first story on those .

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sleep , depression , morning , eight , communism , glasses , life .

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“Yes mumma , I’ll brush my teeth after the glass of milk . Yes mumma , I added chawanprash to the milk .”

“Take care beti . I know you’re alone in the big city, stay safe,stay strong.Love you”

“Yes mumma , love you too. You have a good night’s sleep , and for goodness sake , turn up the heater , I know how cold it gets in Dehra in November”.

Anisha sighed . This breakup business was taking a heavy toll on her . She no longer liked to apply kohl on her child like eyes , instead laying in bed all day , watching nat geo with those kohl smeared pools of black . On the plus side though , she knew she was getting extremely good at lying to mumma .  The rationalist lawyer in her knew this . That was the best part of a voice call , the person on the other end couldn’t guess her true emotions…read the small yet significant changes in her facial expressions .

The mother couldn’t make out if she was in tears , those kohl smeared puffy eyes darting throughout the two bedroom condo . Or notice her cutting her hand at two AM to numb the pain that wasn’t exactly physical . Or her petite hands , accustomed to making his favorite grilled cheese sandwich with a steaming cup of black coffee . Those hands now didn’t do any of that , just facepalmed really hard , for being that trustworthy . She wondered , what had Ruthwik taught her after all? Making sandwiched after the movie was done at 2 AM ? And then , the ironical smile followed by  the snigger .

Groggy at seven in the morning , staring at the pile of novels glistening in the semi darkness. On any other day , she would be grinning , her perfect teeth showing partially.She would lie in his arms , reading  Tolstoy  and the ideals of communism.Simpler times those were.He would alternate between stroking her one strand of floppy hair that refused to be tucked under her ear and ranting about how unfair the referee was during the EPL encounter.She would pretend to understand, and croon soothing phrases in her husky tone . He would simmer down and smile . All that , a distant memory .

As the sun said hello to her , she picked up the well bound War and Peace . As she read page number thirty four , she smiled , again .

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