Lost Joy
Monday broke upon Tushar like hail. Tasks, directives and e-mails continued to burst upon his phone like the relentless wrath of a Biblical God. “Fuck” he groaned. Shouldn’t have had that last peg. Rather that entire quarter. Fuck. I shouldn’t have gone at all. Which girl is impressed by ceaseless drinking? Moreover why was I trying to impress her of all the people. She’s already dating someone! The number of unread messages on his team’s Whatsapp group kept on increasing. The notification sound oblivious to the fact that he could not remember if he was an ass towards the group, the host, or her. Uff. His head hurt. Fuck Party Smart. Should have had Pudin Hara. Who the hell is at the door right now? He almost shouted at himself before collapsing into a vertical position. Nakoy ga. Kiti vela sangu sakali nako yet jau! Slamming the door on her face made him feel guilty every time. But he had to get ready. There was still time to reach the office before the client call. Fuck the