That Morning…

 

How did I get here… Mr.Mitra questioned self after he woke up, that morning; sitting on a chair in a lake, hands tied back. He recapitulates last night. I was returning from the farewell party…’fore that…we had an argument…for me…forgetting her mother’s birthday…and…choosing the party…instead of the feast, at her mother’s place…but how did I end up here…he tried to free himself. Honey, wake up…wake up…why do you drink, so much, when you can’t take it…it was she. He found himself in their water filled tub.

Image courtesy of Ted Strutz

In response to Friday Fictioneers 

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28 thoughts on “That Morning…

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