Kavipriya Moorthy

"What you do?" He asked.

"Am a writer," I said and carefully took my coffee mug to sip the latte. It tasted blunt, I tore one sugar sachet among the four.

He admired my furrow over the sugarless coffee, which I did notice but ignored for the sake of it. He smiled and said, "Well am a reader,"

The moment he uttered the word, I stopped stirring, but the coffee didn't

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