Short Story : Wiping Out

Above everything, you are a phone number.

written across the back of an afterthought,

shakily scribbled, hastily misspelt, clawed,

half-erased, bitten into and breathlessly crushed,

sewn into the broken smiles of struggling souls,

murmured against my left wrist, I wish you’d call home;

Before I could dial your fingertips, and

hear your laugh, and throaty whispers float through the air,

as thick as the pulp of past mistakes that I am caked in,

the rain comes down, in bits and pieces,

wiping out the only evidence of your existence.

This story was about:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Sreshtha Sen is currently studying literature at LSR, Delhi University and is a struggling writer trying to survive what seems to be a laughable mimicry of life. She is usually starving, devouring books, pretending to write, complaining about the lack of significance in her life, and is constantly looking for something witty to add to this description.
Sreshtha Sen

We hate spam as much as you. Enter your email address here.