Glass

Kritika

Kritika let out a small sigh as she stared out the taxi's window. She watched the trees on the road divider zip by, bringing her closer to her destination. She was brimming with excitement. She was about to have her first story! She had been ordered by her boss to act as assistant to one of the senior journalists. She'd been grateful for the opportunity.

After about half an hour, she found herself in Rangmal, the small town where she would be staying. She got a call, just as the driver pulled up near the house she was supposed to stay in.

"Hello Kriti, just wanted to check in." The caller said.

"Hi, Krish. I just arrived at the place I'm going to stay."

"Oh, great. How are you? Did the trip go well?"

"Yeah, it was long, but I slept through most of it so it wasn't much trouble."

Krish chuckled. "Well, wish you all the best for your first story! But hurry, I'm missing you already.."

Kritika smiled. "Thanks. Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

"You better. Talk later. Love you."

"Love you too."

Kritika grinned in content as she hung up. She really did love Krish. Their relationship made her so happy. She was just sad that they had to keep it a secret. Their parents would never accept it, and neither would anyone else for that matter.. She bowed her head in dejection and made her way to get her bags from the car.

As the taxi drove away, Kritika tried to remove the negative thoughts from her mind. She was here to work. Her personal problems had to wait. She couldn't get distracted. This was her first story ever—she intended to impress. She lugged her stuff along the footpath, scanning the plot numbers for house number 13. Her parents had told her not to enter a house numbered 13, especially in a faraway town. But she waved off their superstitions. She didn't believe in all that. She knew that no matter what happens, you can always make your good luck. You didn't have to rely on anything like a stupid lucky number.

She arrived at house 13. She felt confused. She scanned the rest of the houses. They were all pretty normal. But number 13 alone was made almost entirely of glass. She rechecked the address she was given. Bewildered, she dragged her baggage up to the front door and rang the bell.

A pretty woman opened the door. She had long black hair, which she had put in a low bun. She seemed about 30, clearly a professional person. She wore a practical outfit of white blouse and black jeans.

"Hi, you must be my assistant."

"Yes, I'm Kritika Patail. And you must be Mrs..?"

"Ms. I'm Siya Verma."

"Okay. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." She gave a pained smile. "Please come in."

She led Kritika into the house. She looked around. The place was so posh and modern, she was afraid to get the air dirty. She went up a flight of stairs to check out the rooms. There were two, and she found the first one claimed by Siya. She dropped her bags in the second. She freshened up and went downstairs to get some food in her. She had a tiffin of parathas in her bag which she planned to heat up in the microwave present in the kitchen.