He rubbed his eyes, and stretched his right hand towards the left edge of the pillow, his forefinger feeling for the right button. His finger touched the screen, and then his mind allowed his forefinger to travel down to the first key to the left. He pressed, his finger immediately killing the alarm.
He switched his computer on, and then the net. No new mail, except his inbox which was filled with five fellow writers’ discussions on various topics of writing which they had started in the social networking site. But the same young lady had sent him a mail, gently urging him to meet her at the Southern Avenue Lakes. Should he ; should he not. That was the question circling in his mind. His thought was interrupted when his eyes searched on.
But there was no reply from the publisher. Ravi remembered the letter he had sent to the publisher...
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