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by Omahazeeya in English Love Stories

It was a Saturday morning, and Rumi was at her clinic attending her newest patient. Just fifteen minutes into unlocking the sliding doors of her petty, scanty entranced clinic, a tall, gangly tween had shuffled in. His t-shirt was ...Read Morebaggy, hair ruffled from the moistureless, scorching Madras air, and face, damp from the unsparing perspiration. Cautious in not disturbing the thick paper box in his hands, he brushed his sweaty face on the sleeves of his t-shirt, advancing to Rumi's table. As Rumi watched him attentively pushing her glasses up her nose, he held out the box with a Read Less