That morning, I woke up with arms and legs at awkward angles, tangled with a worn woolen blanket, shivering, and that was when I knew there was something wrong ( Read more... )

To Touch the Fire is to Die

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Prologue

Nisha Srijoi

This conversation never happened:

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said.

“There are a number of responses I could make to that statement,” he said, “ranging from ‘oh well’ to a rant about the moral, ethical, and philosophical implications of doing that.”

“You bastard. I loved you.”
( Read more... )

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