Through My Window Sill
She was not the same docile, dutiful and spiritless soul that adorned his bed at night after tirelessly slogging around for his entire family, without any complaints.
Her transformation shocked him more than anyone else.
“Babuji, I owe this to you.”
His father blessed her as she touched his feet. The Collectorate vehicle waited outside.
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This post is written in response to The Daily Post’s one-word prompt; transformation.
As I stepped down the stairs of the creche, I felt her tiny fingers clutch mine tightly. I wish I could understand the pain that they expressed.
It was late by the time I noticed the scratches, bites and nail marks on her baby thighs. Her blank eyes seemed to whisper ‘I told you, Mom’.
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This post is written in response to The Daily Post’s one-word prompt; tiny.
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