Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION.
Not proofread, pls bear with typos.
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That Cold Morning
She felt the ground shake lightly beneath her, making her quickly look down from the chair she was seated on.
Earthquakes, is this what they felt like?, she wondered.
She paused her painting for a few seconds waiting for more tremors. After a few quiet minutes, she went back to dipping her brush in the paint and drawing strokes on the white paper.
Must have been my imagination.
But they were back. Much stronger this time, she felt her whole body shake now.
She very vaguely heard his voice, "Maa, please ma endhri ma".
Her lips involuntarily groaned.
"Maa!".
She turned around but could see no one and the room slowly melted away. She panicked wondering if she was going to go under the ground. Who was going to save her from the earthquake?
"It's seven. I need to drop you and get to work. Enchuko ma, please", she finally heard his frustration filled voice very clearly and felt his palm gripping her shoulder.
"Mmm, fine minutes".
"Ma!", she definitely heard the annoyance in his voice.
She slowly opened one of her eyes and told him, "Please, my thangam la? Just five?"
Shaking his head, he walked out of the room. But she had definitely seen him smile. And probably that's why he must have walked away, so she couldn't see him smile.
Five had apparently turned into fifteen and this time his voice definitely did not sound forgiving.
"Maa! You said five fifteen minutes ago. I am leaving without you".
"You can't do that", she replied defiantly getting down from the bed.
"Watch me", she heard him walk away probably to deal with breakfast.
She looked at the digital clock on her bed stand and realized the time was just seven. So, she had been tricked into thinking it had been seven am fifteen minutes ago. Grumpily she walked into the bathroom.
Half hour later, she walked out the room to the kitchen declaring, "you tricked me".
He walked to her and fixed the buttons on her crisp purple shirt. Or tried to.
She smacked his hand away, "I can do it".
"Kizhicha", she heard him mutter and walk away to the toaster.
Trying to fix the last button, she peered into the plate kept in front of her. Sighing at the plain toast with a thin layer of butter, she eyed the plain white milk in the pink cup.
She stood up to go grab some Nutella from the pantry.
"Enga pora?", his voice stopped her.
