invisible string ✓

twenty one

“Oh!” I let out an airy laughter and asked, “Then… Why are you here?”

Adjusting her black, square rimmed spectacles that framed her wine brown eyes and her position— inclined towards my side— she said, “I'm a freelance reviewer.”

If there was someone who badly needed a real brain instead of those made out of one-time use plastic, that must be me for sure.

“Oh, fuck! I'm extremely sorry. By the way, your name?” As I noticed the hesitation in her face, I added, “You may know mine as well. I'm Ishaan Ahuja,” and extended my hand.

She tried to let out a convincing chuckle as she said, “That's fine.” She reciprocated my handshake as she introduced herself as Maya Singh. “Well, Ishaan…” Maya scratched her forehead and paused out of hesitation, but later asked, “Before it gets dark, shall we take a selfie?”

I couldn't help but scrunch my eyes at her, wondering if taking selfies with strangers is a habit for this universe's people. Noticing them, she added, “I have fixation amnesia.” Seeing my frown getting deeper, she explained, “Short-term memory loss.”

The moment she said those, I wished there was a secret passage underground which would open up that moment and swallow me like a hungry shark.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to ask that. Please don't—”

“That's fine, Ishaan.” Maya let out a tiny smile— the one that looked too hopeful for a fixation amnesiac— and extended her phone for the selfie. As I nodded my head, she switched it on and took around three selfies of us.

Then, as if on cue, the movie started to run with a statutory warning for not to smoke, drink, and use drugs.

***

THREE HOURS LATER…

Maya was right. That movie deserves only the attention of couples on their way to have their hot makeout session.

Before I could leave the hall, I saw a man running to the entrance without looking back, as if he was with his lover and had seen his wife.

Pity viewers.

I strolled outside the hall and, much to my pleasure, I saw a shop with amber lights glowing and the window showcasing the books stacked in the shop.

Realising that they could be the solace to the shit I had just witnessed, I ran to the opposite side of the floor and barged into the shop.

As I scanned for my universe in the Fiction section, I ended up with utter disappointment of not seeing a particular olive green-coloured spine of a book.

Until my terminally-blind eyes led me to my universe at the second shelf. I grabbed the book and was about to leave the section with the satisfaction of carrying my universe in my hands when my eyes fell on a particular bunch of four hardcover books in white with blue, yellow, red, and green respectively.

I carried the bunch and spelled the titles, “Twisted Love. Twisted Games. Twisted Hate. Twisted Lies,” while my mind reeled Aarvi spitting facts on hardcover books.

“What is the difference between a rented house and a mansion you own? Both are houses to live in, right?”

“It costs our monthly food expenses. What do you say?”

As I remembered seeing the same at the bookshelf of Advika's house, I grabbed my mobile and sent Advika a pic of these four books along with a text.

Me:
Are these books good?