
VIVAAN
The train whistled like an old friend clearing its throat. I climbed in, found my seat by the window, and let the smell of steel, dust and chai fill my lungs. For the first time in months, my laptop was in my bag, unopened, a tiny rebellion.


The train whistled like an old friend clearing its throat. I climbed in, found my seat by the window, and let the smell of steel, dust and chai fill my lungs. For the first time in months, my laptop was in my bag, unopened, a tiny rebellion.

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