Stories in 55 Words

55 # 1.

I didn’t know I would find her address like this. Four years after I came back. Not in any yellow pages. Not even from uncle. I found it on the temple steps. On one of the worn-out marbles steps. “Pridarshini Rai, 6.10.1985 - 16.03.2009, 41 Mandi Road, Madhopur, Madhya Pradesh.” I was a year late.

55 # 2.
When she slept like a child with her mouth slightly open, it evoked certain tenderness in you. A sudden urge to protect her. She resembled someone, maybe my cousin, maybe someone else. She is stirring awake now. I better hurry up with another doze of camphor and make that ransom call to her bastard father.