We met in a café. The waitress offered coffee and cookies to aid conversation. Sunlight slinked off giving over to evening. People came and went while our table continued to steam with talk. You said, ‘Want to head off for dinner?’ Clearly, our desires were open books to each other.
Hotel bedrooms demand impersonal reactions but that night after dinner, while sea-waves outside sounded their troubles to the sand; shirt, silk blouse and shoes danced with abandon in the shadows.
‘Aman,’ Nisha whispered, high on Bacardi, ‘Take them off. ’
*
Aman shifted in his chair, lights glaring at his naked body.
‘Next morning, she-,' He pointed at the door of the interrogation room outside which Nisha sat, 'left me wallet-less and without clothes. That is why I’m here,’ Aman gestured to his exposed torso, ‘like this, officer.’
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