The moment I saw her everything around me was serene. It might be because of the devotional vicinity. Her pink dupatta with golden border was elegantly matching with the green shade of her kurti and the French braid open brown hairs were freshly washed and smelled pleasant. Her nails were painted red and perfectly twinned the ankle length legging she wore.
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What would happen if a teller machine could speak? Have you ever wondered how much your words can […]
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Oh! I’m not angry. It’s called dry sarcasm. I’m just Chandler!
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I share everything with you,
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And bear all my peculiarity.
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