Like moulted skin, Kaelin’s discarded costume lay on the floor. His reflection in the mirror held no resemblance to the ‘WANTED’ posters.
On 8 August 1942, one shot, point blank. The loyal student ensured the professor rested in peace without him suspecting a thing.
Every year on this day, she returned to the café and ordered his favourite – two Americanos.
“You’re the perfect host,” the doll whispered as Rajesh kissed its rosy cheek goodnight. He recoiled saying, “No – I’ll kill myself!”
Wishing for her late husband’s return, Emma blew out the candles – her nightly ritual. Suddenly, her bedroom door creaked open.
The old clock struck midnight. A nervous Lydia stood before the mirror in her dimly lit room, whispering the forbidden name.
He pulled the woman from the edge of the bridge. “No one left,” she sobbed, echoing his late mother’s words.
One day, I froze suddenly – the handwriting in that letter was identical to the daughter’s suicide note.
They burst in, anxious, only to find the nervous old man before his TV muttering, “Actions films scare the hell out of me, help me
Jake was ecstatic at Lily’s early morning message, “Moving to your city.” Her second message an hour later, “April Fool,” shattered his joy beyond repair.
After a successful heart transplant, Martha drifted into consciousness to her husband’s unexpectedly chilling words: “A stranger’s heart beats within my wife.”
Each morning, Karan wakes in his lonely flat to half a glass of milk and two sandwiches. His ironed shirts and polished shoes gleam with
All she wanted was to stretch her perfect four years longer. She wasn’t ready to let their laughter fade into memory.
Arun’s trembling hands couldn’t open the biopsy report. ‘Stage four,’ he was certain. A sudden, searing pain tore through his chest.
Luke, without medical insurance, mortgaged his house to fund his open-heart surgery. Mark, his idealistic friend, scoffed, “I’d rather die active – sixty’s the perfect
