I locked my coordinates and planned on falling on the direction in which I spied a sturdy-looking guy.
15 degrees north. Launch missile.
Uh-oh. Missile aborted. I was standing rooted in my tracks.
“Let go…These are your friends. Trust them.”
20 degree north. Launch missile.
Mission successful. But wait…
“Ouch…!” I heard a squeak.
Something poked me. I realised that I was lying on top of a thin, bony…thing.
I opened my eyes to find people frantically trying to get me off a thin, sub-40 kilos waif-like girl.
About the Author
I am a part-time writer,a part-time entrepreneur and a full time mom.
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1 Copy of The Crossover Year by Bhargavi Balachandran. Open to Indian Residents only