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I am gonna be screwed. I have a story to write and I am here writing. I had a paneer roll, and one from office offered me biryani, which i graciously declined. My blog must seem so cloistered, what with talking about only work, and o-very-personal woes. Some more: the boy is ill. I don't like it. I hope he is better soon.
C leaved day after and we didn't get time to meet, all of us. Have grand plans of meeting C tomorrow somewhere, whisk her off to lunch, leave her standing bloated and scoot off to office. God, when we were young. I desperately need to taste some of it again. It's like being physically parched, age, work, responsibility, paper, relationships be damned. Where's the fuh-uh-un??? O would surely be scandalised.