‘Over here, son,’ the old man replied from the living room and laid the Bhagvad Gita upon the bedside table. Mohan ran straight into his arms, lik... an arrow to its target. For as long as he could remember, his ‘Grampa’ had been his only family. He did not have a Mummy and Daddy like the other kids, but his Grampa was the best, he didn’t scold him like the other parents did their kids. ‘Wash your face?’ Grandpa Vikramsingh asked. ‘Yes,’ Mohan replied with a sigh, his head dropping until his. It is immediately followed by a surge of panicked self awareness, and I scramble upright, and rush to right my clothes. With barely a backwards glance, I bolt from my place in the aisle and stride rapidly, head down from the stacks, feeling the need to put distance between myself and my actions. I suppress the urge to break into a run. The Anais Nin volume, dogeared, is clutched forgotten in my fist.As I hurry past row after row of books, turn into the stairwell and race up the steps, my pussy. More

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