I haven’t dilly dallied ever about anything as I have about this fortnight-long Blog Marathon. – the Bar-a-thon. I could do a whole blogpost on the ideas that I’ve thought and rejected because they just didn’t seem to come together. Finally, I’m plunging right in with no plan at all, taking a day at a time hoping to have a short fiction piece up here on the blog every alternate day. Very daring of me, given that I have rarely been this busy but after missing out on the A to Z I didn’t want to miss the excitement yet again.
So here it is – my first post for the Bar-a-thon.
Never Judge a Book by it’s Cover
Sana put down her book and yawned. She could barely keep her eyes open. ‘Darn it’, thought she, ‘had I not missed that connecting flight I would have been home, tucked cosily into my own warm bed’. Instead, here she was, trying to make herself comfortable on a cold steel airport chair waiting for her early morning flight.
Sana normally, loved airports. She was a people-watcher, which is why she never minded the wait. But not today. And definitely not at 4 am in the morning, she mumbled to herself.
With a sigh she picked up her well-thumbed copy of War and Peace but then a huge yawn split her face and she put it down again. It was no good. She couldn’t read. As she turned to put it away in her rucksack her eyes fell on the man.
He sat in the corner seat lost in a book. Or so it seemed. And …. he was wearing glares. Glares! For goodness sake! Who wear glares inside airports, thought Sana. Other than rock-stars or film-stars. But despite his stubbled, manly good looks, he was neither. For one, he was bereft of the entourage that’s the norm with every famous personality and two because he slouched in the most unbecoming manner. No self-respecting celebrity would be caught dead sitting like that. He sat there – his shoulders slumped, his back bent, lost in the book.
And then that red apple leapt at her from the cover. Sana sat up bolt upright. She looked, and she looked again, she stared till she was very sure. Yeah it was Twilight! Which man in his right mind read Twilight? Which person in his right mind read Twilight? thought she, rather derisively. Unless they were giggly headed teenage girls. And Mr Glares here definitely wasn’t one. To Sana’s mind the book sat rather incongruously in his hands.
One really gets to the most unusual sights at airports, thought she.
From behind his glares Samir stared on unseeingly, fingering the tiny heart doodled at the corner of book – the last one his 15 year old sister would ever read.
Written for the prompt ‘The Fault in our Stares’