The Girl On The Bridge
He saw her again today while driving back home from office. She stood at the same spot, giving him that stern cold stare. He almost froze the first -- no, second -- time he had seen her. He had tried to ignore, just liked the first time. But she would be standing there, every night, giving him that look – the look that has not let him sleep for the last 10 days.
He walked into the police station next morning. The cops showed him a photo of the body of a girl found floating in the Yamuna. He recognised her; had seen two young men standing next to a BMW throttle her and then throw her off the bridge. And she had seen him drive past in a daze that midnight, only slowing down a bit, but not stopping.
He did not see her again.
He saw her again today while driving back home from office. She stood at the same spot, giving him that stern cold stare. He almost froze the first -- no, second -- time he had seen her. He had tried to ignore, just liked the first time. But she would be standing there, every night, giving him that look – the look that has not let him sleep for the last 10 days.
He walked into the police station next morning. The cops showed him a photo of the body of a girl found floating in the Yamuna. He recognised her; had seen two young men standing next to a BMW throttle her and then throw her off the bridge. And she had seen him drive past in a daze that midnight, only slowing down a bit, but not stopping.
He did not see her again.
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