From @thatdelhidamsel:
I sit alone in my apartment. A brilliant book and some memories are by my side. It rains and I do not need music anymore. I need some time alone, with my heart and thoughts. Tonight I stay in, tonight I dwell and introspect. Tonight this coffee is my cocktail and the book is my friend.
From @coffeedesk:
Nervous, she turned her head and smiled at him as warmly as she could muster. The tension between them was palpable. He smiled back as he flipped the switch. Those watching knew this cocktail would change everything.
As she slipped away, she couldn’t help thinking about how much she wished this night would end.
From @vanwynkle:
He looked at his pregnant wife one last time. Images of his slain sister and mother flashed before his eyes. He was a potent cocktail of emotions. Revenge, ecstasy, guilt, anger; allowed to ferment over time but never watered down. She looked at him as if to ask something just as he pressed The Trigger.
From @oink1729:
Packing, the photo caught her eye. The sequinned cocktail dress sun flecked in the morning light, the degree hat amusingly askew. To cry, briefly, was to admit to a life pushed into the dull afternoon of an ordinary middle-age. The sharp frustration of tasks, the absence of achievement, the compensations of love. The child cried.
From @_ankitachauhan:
A dimly-lit room and she slipped into her cozy bed with her only companion, a book.
I sit alone in my apartment. A brilliant book and some memories are by my side. It rains and I do not need music anymore. I need some time alone, with my heart and thoughts. Tonight I stay in, tonight I dwell and introspect. Tonight this coffee is my cocktail and the book is my friend.
From @coffeedesk:
Nervous, she turned her head and smiled at him as warmly as she could muster. The tension between them was palpable. He smiled back as he flipped the switch. Those watching knew this cocktail would change everything.
As she slipped away, she couldn’t help thinking about how much she wished this night would end.
From @vanwynkle:
He looked at his pregnant wife one last time. Images of his slain sister and mother flashed before his eyes. He was a potent cocktail of emotions. Revenge, ecstasy, guilt, anger; allowed to ferment over time but never watered down. She looked at him as if to ask something just as he pressed The Trigger.
From @oink1729:
Packing, the photo caught her eye. The sequinned cocktail dress sun flecked in the morning light, the degree hat amusingly askew. To cry, briefly, was to admit to a life pushed into the dull afternoon of an ordinary middle-age. The sharp frustration of tasks, the absence of achievement, the compensations of love. The child cried.
From @_ankitachauhan:
A dimly-lit room and she slipped into her cozy bed with her only companion, a book.
A glowing lamp besides her bed, sheltering the verses of her favorite poetry book, word by word
And prominent strings of Sarod were melting in her ears.
She too might be enjoying cocktail, of her kind, like everyone else.
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