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Coffee, Cake and Curry

May 8, 2012

Woke up to a morning brimming with troubles. My morning coffee was my shore.

With coffee. I had cake.

I stabbed a fork into the cake that was sitting serenely in the fridge. But I couldn’t be bothered to slice a piece like a proper person. It bled cold raspberry cream filling.

At lunch, the pungency of the curry leaves buried inside my aloo-mutter-rice-curd-pickle ball was too much. I drooled and slurped. I sucked the leaves at the end of my meal — cleaning the gravy, making the leaves green again.

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