The new city welcomed Meera with noise.
Cars honked without patience, buildings stood too tall, and people moved as if they were always late for something important. It was exciting. It was overwhelming.
Her small rented room had white walls and a single window that faced another building. At night, the city lights flickered like restless thoughts.
She unpacked her books first.
A habit.
A comfort.
On her first night, she sat on the bed and opened her laptop, determined to write. The words came—but not the way she expected.
Every sentence somehow led back to a railway platform.
To rain.
To a boy who offered an umbrella.
She closed the laptop.