Sweven

Ashtami morning. She walked down the stairs. I stared in awe at her, my mouth almost gaping. I didn’t know how many shots I captured with my DSLR, but you can’t blame me right? She looked so stunning. I peeped from one of the rooms at the foot of the staircase and as soon as she climbed down the last stair, pulled her inside. I closed the door behind her and pinned her to the wall. I could feel her breath on my neck, her wet hair tingling my neck and her eyes shying away. “Yellow looks good on you,” I said. She blushed and her lips parted. I held her waist through her lowly draped saree and pulled her closer. I pushed her chin up with one of my fingers. I kissed her forehead and said,”Beautiful, you are, my Durga.” She blushed harder and said,”I need to go for anjali.” Saying this, she freed herself and turned to leave. I held her, pulled her back, kissed her neck and said,”Not so soon, dear.”

I woke up. I looked around and saw there was a huge mess. I climbed down the bed and looked at her photo on the wall. I changed the garland and lit an incense stick in front of the photograph. “Shubho ashtami, my Durga.”