who is at the door?

Newspaper

Alarm’s screech reached a deafening crescendo.

After hitting the snooze button I drew the blanket over my head.

Wasting my precious life just for a lark? Hell NO!

It’s time to exert myself to catch some extra delightful, gorgeous Zs.

More determined, I instantly drifted off to sleep…

“zzzzzZZZ….”

“Ding-Dong!”

Dulcet doorbell lured me to….no packed a hefty wallop to my eardrums.

Flustered, swearing under my breath, tossing the blanket aside, drowsily, I trundled to the door.

I poked my head out of the door.

Nobody in the sight…

On turning back, my eyes fell upon the newspaper.

Hot as a blond, a damsel in distress awaiting the rescuer.

I grabbed her…delicately held her soft layers in my hands and led her inside.

Put the wood in the hole. BANG!

“TEAAAAAAAAAA…!”

I hollered quietly.


Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is the mother of two lovely kids and hails from northeastern India. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures along with her kids trying new recipes or crafting. She describes herself as -- a soulmate, a life alighted on the earth catching the rhythm passing by her. A tinge of joy colours her world and lays its feet on the land where revellers are awaiting her to get into the groove.

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