From @flirtingshadows: It’s late Sunday night but you’re edgy, consumed by insomnia, Monday morning blues and creeping, nagging self-thoughts that have parked themselves in the head for the night. You try your utmost to rein in those runaway emotions, the fears and the self-doubts. But you feel yourself drown into a troubled sleep, shielded by droopy eyelids.
From @vidulachakradeo: My hands touch the ‘ektara’. The strings sing a melody unheard. My feet swirl on the ground of ecstasy. My mind lost in the reverie of his memories. My eyes see none but him. My body whirls in the air of love. They call me Merabai. But, I am a bride in a runaway marriage.
From @DNRamki: The calendar read ‘Vacation @ Home’, but that was hardly the mood. They seemed to be squabbling, almost perennially. There was hardly any excitement remaining. It seemed like he wasn’t welcome anymore. It just didn’t feel right. Even at home, he wasn’t really home. He wanted to run away.
From @SugarsNSpice: My eyes were wet and hands moist. Sweat trickled down from my head. This was no anxious fear, but a phobia. I was supposed to be happily excited, but than Raul was someone I met just a while back. He was perfect for the family. But, what about me? Hence, I became the 'Runaway Bride'.
From @zoarcher: The formidable walls, the air thick with breaths of callous indifference suffocated him. He knew he didn’t deserve to be in this hole-in-the-wall cell. He didn’t have blood on his hands. He had to escape. But then, how would he ever clear his name? He would always be identified as the convict who ran away.