Disclaimer- Truth which is twisted and retold is called fiction. This part is almost fiction.
She made the coffee and sat on the chair beside the window. From the window, distant sea could be seen. The vast land of concrete jungles, swamps & slums were a part of her daily world.
Bombay in a way was a universe on its own. And no, she couldn’t get use to saying it Mumbai. Bombay was intimate, Mumbai a bit distant.
But perhaps today was not about psychology behind the cities. Today was about a phone call about to be made, the triumph after a long time.
If all heartbreaks were so inspiring & life changing, she would have chose to have her heart break all the time.
But such is the case with time. It heals and it hurts.
She hold onto the coffee and mentally prepared her conversation, before dialing the number.
“Hi, how are you ? i just wanted to let you know, that i have bagged a small book writing deal..Listen i know, that’s its over between us,but i just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for indirectly motivating me to write. I still miss you a lot..
She dials the number. An automated voice talks back “The number you have dialed does not exist. Please check the number again.”
Ps-I will update this story regularly. Thanks for reading.