Flash fiction

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Photo by Andrei Panfiloiu on Unsplash

The cup of hot tea steamed before me. I was sitting in the shade outside and the cafe inside was bustling with tourists. The city looked small and still from this hill, like a model you find in the offices of architects. Earlier in the morning I had decided that I would refrain from taking any pictures that day. It had become the most stubborn of all my habits to get rid of.

The urge to snap away the moment anything vaguely interesting appeared before me was irresistible. Was it really vital that I captured so much of what I saw? It was as if they would be snatched away from me if I didn’t store them. Can you really be robbed of your memories? Or was I scared of losing them, of forgetting the moments which brought me joy? …

About

Maitreya Thakur

Lover of words. Eager to share, learn, and improve.

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