
He kept striking the calling bell with his index finger, but there was no response. A dog sleeping on the road lifted its head and indulged in a prolonged howl.
Inserting the duplicate key in the lock, he turned the handle of the door while wondering where Sujata and his 8-year-old son, Rupesh, had gone. He threw himself in, banged the door, switched on the lights, and glanced at his wristwatch-10 o'clock.
The living room seemed to be somewhat different than usual-sofa sets having creased covers, a pack of cards cluttering the center table, books from the wooden shelf strewn on the floor-contrary to the impeccably bright, cheerful condition that he always boasted of. What was wrong that day?
He tried to look for his mobile phone, but couldn't find it. He rushed toward the landline telephone that sat on a table near the bookshelf. It was out of order.
"Must have left my mobile phone in the car."
As he was about to step out of the house, the visitor's bell rang.
"That should be Sujata and Rupesh. Must have been at our neighbors' place." He opened the door to an extremely attractive, young lady. Along with her, a gust of cool mid-December wind almost swept him off his feet.
"Hi!"
With a shudder, he turned away from staring at the lady, conscious of observing a maiden of singular beauty, and asked quizzically, "How can I help you?"
The lady pretended not to notice the civility and proceeded toward a single sofa.
Who are you?" Anil'svoice felt harsh on his ears.
"Have a seat! Calm down, dear!" The lady said.
Anil's obedient eyes followed till he settled on the big sofa in the middle of the room.
"I'm Nikita. Don't you remember me? We were in college together."
"What brings you here?" Anil enquired with the sternness of a police officer, unable to recall any such name that might have been a friend or an acquaintance.
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