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This 55-word story is in response to a prompt on ‘You Never Call’ from here.
A sponge. Absorbs. All the water, and the soap. The grease and the dirt. Wring it out. And again. To make room for more.
One who falls in love has to be a masochist, right? For is there a better form of self-torture than falling in love. जब तबियत किसी पे आती है, मौत के दिन करीब होते हैं … (आप जिनके करीब होते हैं, वो बड़े खुशनसीब होते हैं…)
pyaar mera non-biodegradable ishq tha par unka recyclable deforested se mann mein unse, khushiyo ki aayi thi biodiversity dheere-dheere bane the hum, ek doosre ki energy alternate wali duniya saari lagne lagi thi, jaise hai wo zero emission carbon footprint hi jaise, ho gaya ho sabka none par kaise ho sakta tha ye sustainable? emotional […]
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