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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac


The morning arose, my eyes refused to open in all that comfort and warmth around. I was careful not to strain it, just relaxed on the mat, she was breathing softly beside me. That was all that mattered. This part of town was supposed to be cordoned off, but then in a distance I heard something like a string of words. It was not incoherent, but something like an invitation to cruise.. It wasn't far away. Maybe that would be it. When my eyes opened, I was back in the house. My yearning and imaginations had been pathological all this while.

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