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Bollywood Calling

I have a certain design to submit.
I have a certain report to be written and submitted.
I have a certain mini project to be made and submitted.
I have a tight deadline to meet.
Each assignment has more than one delieverable. Thankfully, they are still in single digit.

I can hear girls partying next door.
I refused an invitation to some other party some time earlier.
Thankfully, my friend had me tuck in some Turkish food at some fancy nice restaurant. Its friday night.

My roomie gets me a mug of steaming hot coffee in the middle of night to keep my spirits high.
The room is strewn with papers and clothes.
She really can’t walk without stepping on my notebooks or clothes.
She is wearing chappals.
She feels sorry.

I sleep late in the night.
I wake up early in the morning to find a pencil still in my hand.
I can hardly see the carpet on the floor.

All I see is papers, clothes, books, empty coffee mug, light streaming in the room (made pink by my curtains), time (running out).

I feel like a struggling script writer trying her luck in Bollywood.

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