Warmth

“Toffee, toffee, toffee, toffee”. My sugar starved brain is screaming, “Toffee, toffee, toffee, toffee”. I am seeing lights and spots dancing right in font of my eyes even as darkness threatens to claim me whole. “Toffee, toffee, toffee, toffee”, the mantra keeps repeating on and on, as I search through my purse for that infernal blob of colored sugar that is hiding somewhere pretty successfully. Sweat starts pouring down my face and I surely must have started swaying when a pair of strong arms grab and guide me to a bench nearby. I plonk down gracelessly with my eyes closed, and a bar of chocolate finds it way into my hands. “Eat this, you would feel better”, commands a baritone and I wordlessly obey. No sooner had I had a piece, a bottle of water was thrust into my hands. “Here you go, have a sip. Rest a bit. I hope you get well soon.” I hear the sound of feet walking away and as I opened my eyes, the mall crowd swallowed my savior. All that remains behind is a conscious me, the warmth of his hands, a bottle of water and a bar of chocolate.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. maritznicole says:

    Absolutely love this post of yours. Are your short stories experiences in your life or are they fiction? Regardless, very well done 👏👏👏

    Liked by 1 person

    1. raonikhita says:

      Awwwww. Thank you so much for your kind words. Almost all of my stories are fictional. Except for Wistful, which was my Mom’s story. I am glad you enjoyed this one.

      Liked by 1 person

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