“For me, it has never been just a room, stacked with books – this library”.
“I know, its a reading room too , a room of enlightenment , therefore ? ”
“Yes, that and so much more”
“It has been my safe haven when i didn’t want to join in the revelries of impulsive teenagers. It has been my dreamland in more poetic moments. It has been my refuge in my moments of mourning. That spot by the window has been my secret spot for chalking out life-plans.And, it has been my favorite everyday destination.”
“You seem to have been something of a nerd”
“Well , you might say that i wasn’t exactly a social butterfly .”
“What about friends, you had none?”
“Yes, i did. He would come to the library to read with me . He was my only good friend.We would discuss poetry, politics , philosophy… you name it! ”
“What happened of him? Does dad know him?”
“I guess, he does”.
“Do you remember his name ?”
” Siddhartha… Siddhartha Mitra”
“But mom… that’s dad’s name !”
Written for FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017 WEEK #25 where participants are required to write a flash fiction piece under 200 words, inspired by the photo prompt.
Image courtesy :https://www.pexels.com/photo/architecture-bookcase-books-bookshelves-300412/
Thanks to rogershipp for hosting the challenge.