The Everyday Evening
The cold breeze came in through the gaps in the curtains of the balcony. A cane swing swayed with the movements in the air. The smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen through the hall whose walls were adorned with photographs. Tara poured her coffee into a mug, the only one she used among the many she had. She sat on the swing with the mug of coffee in her hand thinking about all the events of the day. She closed her eyes and her daily routine played out in her mind. Every detail of the day was clearly visible from the colour of her toothbrush to a faint voice that she felt every morning calling out to her though no one was visible. A lot had happened in the last year that Tara had not expected would have the outcome that it did. A few years back she had been a student, studying what she loved. Life events fell into place chronologically. Now she was a working woman, the term ‘work’ was not particularly appealing to her. She, Tara who believed that anything that one enjoy...