Maulishree inhaled the mist floating in from the river. Tugging at her beret to pull some over the ears, she tripped down the cobblestones in eager haste. Elegant icicles were beginning to form around the car bumpers and her silhouette contrasted against them, she so radiated warmth and a cheerful pride.
Where was Om? She scanned the library for his familiar Burberry. Ah, there by the coffee vending machine, next to the carpeted staircase. The steam rose from his cup in lazy curls.
Reigning herself in, she composed her thoughts. Pradeep Choudhary of Headway Publications had said promisingly over the long distance call from Delhi, “We are ready to sign your publishing contract!” Having made up her mind on who to share the news with first, she was stepping up happily now in the direction of her eight months old husband.
“Where have you been? I needed a cheque signed for the insurance payment. I do hope you remembered to pick up an anniversary gift for the Sharmas. Did the internet guys call?” greeted her eternal organizer of a life partner.
Maulishree slumped over the bannister at his unheeding staccato.
“We really need to lighten our winter boxes,” Om began thrusting a book at her, oblivious to her hardening face. “Emotive Dance,” she peered at the title, her eyes brimming over. She gripped the tome. “Have it issued, will you?” he was turning down the stairs dismissively, taking a sip from the freshly micro- foamed cappuccino.
The State Frisbee Champion placed her feet apart to get a powerful balance. She then raised her right arm and took aim! The book connected with his neck. He followed it to the landing, in dull brown thuds.
There clearly was a whole lot he had missed.