I would never know why that night, after I accidentally found Anya’s passports, I returned to her bedroom and slept by her side the rest of the night. Man’s behavior defies reason at times. Perhaps I did not want to wake her up and argue in the middle of the night. Perhaps I was scared she might reveal something that I wasn’t prepared for. Perhaps I was just too tired. When I woke up, Anya was sitting by the bed, her wavy golden hair falling over the white sheet like a dreamy waterfall. The high window let in the morning light through the drapes, enough for the stark room to absorb some warmth and color. It took me a few seconds to recollect what had happened the night before as I tried to simultaneously decipher Anya’s focused look, directed at me. A gentle rustle with a book being pushed towards me resulted in me getting up and sitting up very straight on the bed; in a second I was prepared by instincts to be on my safeguard. She did not move a bit, stuck to her posture as i...
Articles, Poetry and Short Stories by Proma Ray.