When my house burned down

Yesterday my house burned down. So sad.

Nothing was left of the peanut shells spent to prop it up. Just a few half-baked chairs, 3 toasted blades of a ceiling fan, one metre copper wire and an iron pipe. Everything else got reduced to ashes. Thankfully, the property deed of the paan shop I own in Chor Bazaar was in the bank locker. Along with my matriculation certificates and matrimonially certified nose ring. Rest all, gone!

On one of the half-baked chairs I have carefully perched myself, under a tree across the road from my house, or rather, its remains. One kindly young inspector stands by my side, asking me to list out things which may help me claim insurance. I look up his tight stomach to his cut jawline, to clear my mind. Smoking, my head seems to be. Unable to think and clouded with the memory of yesterday, is what I mean. The kindly dimple on his cheek gentleman is like my guiding star, especially since Fluffy my stuffed toy is no more to be the voice in my head. I almost feel no reason to be alive. But life must go on.

But only now I realize how much has gone forever. The list, may insurance be kind, is as follows:

jistin

[To read further, kindly click here]

[This post is written for the WordPress Daily Prompts : 365 Writing Prompts program. The author, Sakshi Nanda stays somewhere ‘Between Write and Wrong‘]

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