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A story from life.

She kept looking at the clock at equal intervals. She could no longer keep calm, the lecture wasn't boring and the paper was of her interest but she had some plans for the day. She had intended on escaping from the calm of the campus to the other side of the world where she could escape being noticed.

5.40 p.m panicked her heart , for she had five more minutes to catch the bus which was allotted for the evening slot. What could she do now, did she even have a choice? Her smile gave away to a frown as she could clearly hear the bus whish past her department window and there was her professor unmindful of the whole thing that was being cooked in her head.

Finally the class ended, she almost leaped out of her class. Three hours of lecture were tiring at times and she was about to disappear out of the department corridors, there ,she hears a voice. She instantaneously recognises the voice and with a heavy heart she looks up to see her professor waving at her.

Doomed, her heart whispers as she climbs the way up to the cabin. The air unlike other days is tense and she sees fire in mam's eyes. Should she mutter a little prayer for herself, she muses but avoids the idea. She tries to concentrate ,the voices in her head slowly die. What she hears next leaves her shocked. A fifty year old lady who was a towering figure within the classroom was weeping like a kid. She wanted to comfort her with soothing words but chose not to. She waited for her to speak aloud and finally she could hear words which weren't that fascinating, "depression", "anxiety", "insomnia" were what made sense ,the other medical jargons she couldn't make head or tail out of it.

What could she do, she knew to tackle the problems which were in her life but what could she do when she were to deal with someone's problems which were so heightened and depressing.

She like a fool ends up asking ,"Ma'am what about a bus ride, we still have the 7 p.m bus available!". The lady looks up at her from her tear veiled eyes and something magical happens, she smiles. She says , "maybe some other day". But , now the tense air seems to lighten up and as I put on the water heater to make some tea, she keeps on telling me stories about how it all started. How a charming lady who only knew to love the world of books found it difficult to make room in the real world which was too fake to be real.

We sipped tea over stories and as it was time for me to leave, I met her old self again.

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