Her.. (The Dream…Part 2)

She stretched out and stood up, went to the mirror and started to comb her hair… this somehow always seemed to calm her nerves… but her mind kept drifting back to that dream.

Picking up her cell from her bag, she saw she had just one message… from her boyfriend.

It read, “Darling CAT, dinner at 8 in Luigi’s diner??”

She smiled… and sent a message agreeing. It had been a year to the day since they had met.

Her name was Chinmayee A Tripathy… but everyone called her Cat… at 5 feet 3, fair complexioned Cat had that looks to kill as well… or so her friends told her. She was a journalist for an acclaimed newspaper and had won some awards for her works too… she only wished that she didn’t get lost so often for her friends always teased her saying she was the only reporter in the world who’d lose track of her work and wander off in a totally different way.

She freshened up and put on her favorite blue jeans with a simple white top… and left for work hoping it’d be a normal day and looking forward to her dinner date with Atul. Little did she realize what was ahead for her that day.

Her editor called her in just as she reached her desk. This irritated her… always it was the same time… perhaps it was her imagination but in 2 years in that office she must have hardly sat an hour on her chair.

“What the hell does Shukla want with me now?” she wondered as she headed for the next floor and toward the office of chief editor Vipin Shukla.

“Cat, your last work was superb. But it seemed less challenging for a reporter of your caliber. So I have decided to promote you.”

The opening from the chief editor took Cat by surprise and she muttered her thanks looking at the floor instead of him.

“Your next assignment is without a doubt a challenge for you. To find out whatever possible of this new smuggling ring I just got wind of. You can take any photographer you wish but be very careful. The head honcho in the ring might be the dangerous Rajan Dey. Is that clear Cat?”

She nodded assent and took the details that he gave her in a brown envelope. She opened it and started looking through some photos of the so called new smuggling gang. They weren’t new to her at all for some were the same fools she had helped capture a year or so ago.

“Politics always comes in the way of my work”, she cursed, “else how could these fellows have gotten out so fast?”

Then suddenly she paused, she had seen a face in that group. Her heart nearly came out of her mouth…


(to be continued…)

Poetry & writing to me are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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