By Tabish Nawaz
Winter came in the morning. Actually, it came sometime around the midnight. He was sleeping then. Or, as he puts it – weaving his dreams. He often uses such poetical tricks, to force upon his thoughtful side, on few acquaintances he has. In reality he was busy sleeping then, recuperating from his day’s work, preparing himself for an yet another day of patterned chores and timely activities.
Winter, may be because it was untimely, came furtively inside his room, through a narrow opening in the window. He intentionally keeps it open, to allow morning light to seep and invade his eyes, in case the alarm clock fails to maul his senses.
Winter began to gently caress his warm exposed flesh. A feeble shivering ran through his body. He forsook his half-woven dreams and hurled himself to awareness. It was dark then. Therefore, he failed to identify winter lurking, diffusing inside his room. He attributed his shivering to his poor diet and daily fatigue. He turned to the other side of the bed and slept shivering.
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