End of an era.

It’s like, as if a really fat elephant is sitting on my chest. The pressure is unbearable. I take out yet another cigarette and light it. My hands tremble.

The eyes have dried up. Because there aren’t any tears left. Strands of hair fall on my forehead, blocking the view, making me look like a mess.

A sip on the big mug of steaming tea. I stare at the horizon. The usual busy evening crowd near Andheri railway station. No one has any time to stop even for a minute. Life moves on in this city. Nothing or no one can stop it.

End of an era? A voice inside me speaks. You will get through this, it says.

I know I will. I’m a fighter. I always have been, since I was only 10.

Some things are not meant to be.

Get up. Brush yourself off. Don’t look back. Ever again.

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