[Highest Rank - 34]
An insomniac writer, looking for a new story, crosses paths with a mysterious girl who engages him in an infamous serial murder case, and brings him to a point where he begins to question his own Sanity.
Title:...
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24 Dhiwan Road
Chapter 8.2
The Wind Called Love
'The Lake'
* * *
(Kalpit)
Nights are more or less empty canvases, where one could paint their dreams, desires, secrets and mysteries, without much expectations. Those August nights, for both of us, were like that. We spent most of our times in The Owlet Cafe, conversing over cold coffees and french fries.
She would tell me about her lost home, her dreams, office life, favorite books and I would sit and listen, waiting for my turn to speak but I hardly used to get any. Whenever I did, I always struggled with words. I didn't have much to tell but a lot to hide. I couldn't risk telling her about my condition but I always gave slight hints.
"So you seriously don't go out in days?"
"Nah! I don't!"
"Isn't that so exciting? You are a proper night creature-"
"No, I am just a mysterious Time Traveller, about to fall in love with you, lady!"
"I wish to do the same, Sire, but alas, I must kill you. I am a time inspector, and you are under coffee arrest," she giggled, and took a long sip of coffee, "But it would be really good if we all could travel through time."
"Interesting, which era would you like to travel, if by some means it becomes possible, huh?" I adjusted my Italian hat and frisked my pocket for my cigar which was missing.
"1930, Paris," she exclaimed and got up from her seat, and then we hit the road.
"Paris is a great idea. I am sure you would one day fly to the city. I want to go to Venice and work there in one of the museums."
"Most of the Museums get closed by Night, Mister Kalpit, what would you do then?"
"I would fly to Paris then!"
We took a turn and started walking in Hudson Lane which was poorly lit. There was only one old lamppost, rest of the street was filled with darkness. Suddenly she grabbed my hand and it did something inexplicable to me, "Why would you come to Paris, Sire?"
"To meet a young woman, and to tell her how stupid she looks in brown boots-"
She jumped towards the lampshade, taking me along, and we ran in circles around it, our shadows dancing in the night, and then she rested her back on the lamppost and pulled me close. Her breaths fell on my face and our eyes met, "Tell me, Kalpit, how stupid I look, tell me!"
