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As the early morning rays slowly made its way to brighten up, fighting their way through the fog, she went about to collect the milk bottle and the newspaper delivered at her doorstep. She frantically scanned the papers for any news that would quench her anxiety which had turned into resignation of the inevitable.

Going on about the mundane chores of putting things in order, her hands moved at a robotic pace while packing food to be taken to work. She had almost lost count of the number of days that had passed now, that she had lost interest in dressing up before stepping out. She used to get excited at the very thought of accessorizing and made sure everything was in order the previous night. Now, all that she could muster was a small, inconspicuous bindi* on her forehead.

Her hands automatically moved on to switch on the television, to hear any news of the war and her beloved. There was nothing that caught her attention. No telephone calls, no messages assuring her the presence of her lifeline. It was a long time now, since she heard that cheerful, loud, booming sound that reassured her of any challenge that lay in front of her. In times such as these, she found no meaning in life, no meaning that she could decipher in disputes, no sense that she could make out in establishing superiority at the cost of innocent lives, no expectation of the unknown.

She looked at herself in the mirror and wondered when she forgot to smile. Time didn’t matter to her now. She lived, because that was expected of her. As she moved towards the window to close it, lest the cold winds blow, it carried to her nostrils, a scent, oh! so familiar, wafting through the air. Amidst the overgrown bushes, fighting its way, the exuberant passion flower , its petals eager to bloom. Six months back, that was when both of them had enjoyed its natural scent, while sipping hot tea. Since then, it was as if, it had forgotten to bloom. A surreal feeling of confidence, seeped in.

Bindi* :- A decorative mark worn in the middle of the forehead by Indian women, especially Hindus.

Acknowledgements :- Thank you Sue Vincent for running the challenge at #writephoto and also for the photo prompt. For rules please refer here. Also written for the FOWC using the daily word prompt- surreal. Meaning from Google. Thank you all for stopping by and reading.

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