“She was there, looking through closed eyes with all those fantasies and imagination taking shape. Her fingers won’t move, her skin glowing as usual and though calm yet glittering the glimpse. He was standing by her, with eyes open but they had gone dry, like his soul. Her presence was the only thing which reassured her absence. And all remained was the unacceptable fact ‘she is DEAD’.”
Truly
Abinash
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