Shorts

The hard muscled shoulders were broad in keeping with his height, but it was more the overall virility of the man was so disturbing. And attractive. And definitely scary. She tried to concentrate, she really did, but she was acutely aware of a hard male thigh against hers, the 5 o'clock stubble on his chin, which accentuated his brand of aggressive masculinity tenfold, and, not least, the bigness of him. 

And she was startled back to reality as the conductor shouted out the next stop. Luck, it seemed, had never befriended her.

***

It wasn't love that brought his entire brood rushing to his bedside. When his estranged wife, three sons - two legitimate, one bastard - and, yes, even his former daughter-in-law dropped everything at his beck and call, it was not out of devotion but rather sheer disbelief that the man who had launched a financial empire and sculpted their own lives might turn out to be a mere mortal like the rest of them.
Time, was no more a friend of his.

***

Different religions. Different nationalities. Different languages. Different customs. Different eras. Different rules. Different tastes. Different colours. And all for that green card.
Love is blind, they said. 
Barely did she realise that he suffered from Daltonism.

***

"So, what d'you think?", she asked, as she adorned yet another beautifully amalgamated, crisp set of crepe and brocade. She held up her curls in a nonchalant bun, and twirled around to show off the abbreviated back of the dress. 

He carefully looked up from his spreadsheet and quirked a half smile, "It's nice."

And then people wondered why did she lack the bridal glow all along.

***

Little nothings out of my closet diaries.

Soon,

Ak.