Wednesday, February 08, 2017


By Sunaina Patnaik at Wednesday, February 08, 2017

(Originally written for Paragraph.)

On a walk that deemed unfit for a cold winter night, he set off in a direction he never took before. The soles of his shoes were barely firm to protect his feet, but the condition of his windcheater was even worse. The streets were desolate as he paused under every streetlight before he moved any further and the wild wind did no good to his chapped cheeks. For a moment, he wondered if he was going in circles agonizing over the only shelter he left behind. Having no option left and no human in sight, he ran, engulfing himself in darkness and cold. He came to a halt when he saw a distant light. Catching his breath and senses, he approached the light. When he came close, he noticed that it was an all-night library. Glad to have found a roof for the night, he went in to find himself surrounded by large bookshelves and his long-lost lofty dreams. Life and blood rushed back to his cheeks as he held the hardcovers and inhaled the scent of the paperbacks. Maybe the world of fiction did more to the homeless than reality.

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