Memoirs !!!!

The elevator nudged floor by floor. His heart pounded. He looked down to check what his fingers were doing to ease the tension. The phone was the victim, as it kept turning like one of those fidget spinners sold at traffic junctions. He took control and tapped the mobile screen. There were no notifications. The wallpaper seemed to scream for attention; the picture was of a semi-closed window, the curtains of which were silhouetted by the morning rays of light. It was an ordinary photo, slightly out of focus. But it was her view from the bed, which she clicked and sent to him, years back. It was the first ever photo she had sent him, and his sole wallpaper since that day. The image held a warmth of that room – her room – and it had often comforted him. But not now, as the elevator creaked at Floor ‘4’. He bit his lip. Although he had set it up, the situation now seemed a tad too much to handle. It felt like the day he had confessed love to her. That hadn’t gone well either… Stepping...

“I knew you always had it in you,” he said. He had heard that line so often that he no longer felt a thing. “Ratan, sorry but I have to go now,” he said. “Of course. The celebrity. No time for...” He tried not to get worked up. He went on, “My wife  admired  your novel. She says you kept her on tenterhooks all the time.” “Really?” He was bored now. “Yes. She said she loved the ending most.” He nodded absently. “You haven’t met Neeta. But she’d love to meet you.” “Look Ratan, I have to go.” he said and left hurriedly. He felt relieved when he left. He brushed aside a twinge of guilt though with the treatment he had just given to his school mate. The novel had been a bestseller. And the acclaim and publicity? Who could deny he hadn’t reveled in it. Those words in the reviews;  Original. Brilliant. Page-turner.  It gave him a high. He especially liked  original . The high from that had lasted really long. But after a year of being a celebrity he felt a wearines...