PremiumFiction
by Abhishek Basak
Aug 22, 2024
When she was cooking, she had a habit of sticking out the tip of her tongue. She looked younger then, younger than she already looked. And smaller and mousier and frailer. It was a sign that she wanted to be left alone. And in those days, when everything was ending around her, you could find her cooking more and more—there she was, standing on her toes and bending over the kadhai, the steam fogging her round Harry Potter spectacles, a bead of sweat hanging perilously over the tip of her nos
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