Dr Meera Saravana has been on the run for the last ten years due to a fatal misunderstanding. She ends up in New York, hoping that maybe this time everything will work out. But that's turning out to be impossible the more she gets involved with the...
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MEERA
It was a warm day in L.A. when my life changed.
A soft breeze carried from the ocean ran past me, tugging on the loose strand of my hair. The sun was warm. And the sounds of the city could barely be heard from the little hillside cafe I sat in. The palm trees sway above me from the string hilly breeze, and I can hear the sound of the radio playing old show tunes behind me.
It was picturesque.
Perfect.
At least there was a view of the city that I could admire.
Los Angeles was a nice place; a very cosmopolitan city full of dreamers and try-hards who wanted to make a name for themselves. It was a good place to live if you were rich enough or desperate. It was a city you could get lost in, I liked that aspect. Even though people flocked here to stand out, I was simply anonymous.
It was easy for me to blend in. This has been my home for many years. I've learned to appreciate its downsides along with the upsides.
The red umbrella of the bistro shielded me from the late September sun. I shifted my legs, feeling the warmth of them on my bare skin. My upper half was blissfully in the shade. I leaned back into my chair leisurely and took a sip of the coffee, humming in approval of the sweet taste. Four packets of sugar were torn open, one of them picked up by the breeze. I watched as it tumbled past the waiters and seats, eventually flying over the low cobblestone wall and into the valley below.
I placed my hand on top of the postcard that sat on the table to keep it from flying away too.
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The postcard in my hand felt like expensive card stock. I played with the edges of it absentmindedly, the tips of my fingers tracing the familiar lines of cursive, imagining how they had been written with care. The words were trivial but they meant so much to me.
I could hear my phone chime from inside my bag. I reached inside and took it out.
"No," I simply said, my lips twisting into an ugly scowl.
