Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Violated

She had no inkling that her world was about to change. The bubbly nature was about to burst. In the early morning; just like every other morning, she was jogging in the neighbourhood park.
She was violated. From nowhere, a rotund man, in his twilight years, pats her behind and just keeps walking.
She cringes, when the impact is felt. She glares at this lecherous creature. But her arms nestle under her breast, her feet weigh down the ground; she transforms into a peeved statue.
He exits the garden as she sits on a marble bench to cool down her frayed nerves.
She retrospects and wonders what could have been? How she could have slapped the man. Sure, he was strong but she could have given out a yelp, which would have gathered the people in the park.
But she could not imagine this old man's predicament, albeit well-deserved, without pangs in her abdomen. She now thinks: The man is going to die very soon. Let me be happy for being a pleasant memory in the man's last few days.
With her mind at peace, she lumbers to her home.

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