It was the night before your birthday. I was making one last attempt at making you understand the depth of my love. I wrote songs and poems in your ode.
Kabir stood up wearily as he realized he had to do something. He felt nauseous as he struggled to pull out the deeply struck knife from Dev’s chest.
It was time to answer a billion prayers. I focused my energy on Messi’s mind. He was sound and focused. He could net the ball with his eyes closed. I rattled the goal keeper’s mind and nulled the odds.