The clock struck midnight. There was victory in his eyes. On the bed were remnants of his night’s hunt – the Scrabble letters I scattered after he had defeated me yet again! The man who can beat me at Scrabble is a man I respect.
On weekday nights, R and I whip up (not so) simple dinners so we are all sorted for making our way through the bedside books. They have been taking longer to get through, I have noticed. I swear this is because of how beautiful Pune night rain looks from our bedroom window. Golden, quiet and melodious! It looks different over the weekend though – more intrusive than beautiful, more irritating than romantic. We still trudge out, braving the mighty raindrops and squealing over the puddles.