Any one observing him would have seen a change in his complexion, in the adjustment of his facial muscles, in the vividness of his glance, which might have made them imagine that every molecule in his body had passed the message of a magic touch. And so it had.

It was a nice face, a face you get to like. Pretty, but not so pretty that you would have to wear brass knuckles every time you took it out.

I saw from the corner through the window panes the innocence of the children, dreams of the youth, the pride of humans and the wisdom of the old.

Written By Shubhalaxmi Langon

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