The following day brought a humid warmth, with a seductive hint of a cool breeze. Geet was opening the small kitchen window to let some air in when a piece of paper slid through the front door.Before she could climb down from the chair she was stood upon and retrieve in, Pari's litheness beat her to it.
She inhaled the paper and sighed. "It smells like the 6 foot hunk's cologne."
Intrigued, she made her way over to her sister as Pari recited the letter aloud in a poor attempt of a gruff manly voice.
'Myself, Maan Khurana, would like to invite the inhabitants of apartment 34B residing in the coastal town of Javea to an evening soiree in apartment 33A. Drinks with light refreshments provided. Casual dress. No boxed gifts accepted; they can be quite misleading.'
"Pretentious git," Geet muttered, assuming Pari hadn't heard. But as Pari watched her sister walk away, rubbing her arms as if goosebumps had erupted on them and the slight tensing of her shoulders that hadn't gone amiss, she followed her footsteps with plenty of questions at the tip of her tongue.
"You never told me how he knows you."
Geet switched the rustic kettle on, preparing her daily mug of coffee.
"He doesn't know me."
"Why did he say that he recognised you?"
Her hands stilled for a brief second as she scooped the coffee beans from the jar. But she regained herself and turned to face Pari, whose face reflected the confusion she saw before her.
"I don't know." And with a smile, she poured the welcoming hot water into her mug & sauntered off.
***
It was one of those rare days where she could relax and recuperate before Johan arrived to collect her painting & inspire her to start upon another. Painting had been her outlet for as long as she could remember.
Having completed her studies in her homeland of India, she had relocated to the sleepy village of Javea a year ago. Inspired by its serene beauty and peaceful way of life, it was her home away from home and the perfect place for her to gather inspiration from her surroundings and bring them to life through her brushes.
Pari had followed in her sister's footsteps six months later, having abandoned her marketing degree in favour of teaching English to local schoolchildren. Geet had scolded her for her rash behaviour, but once Pari admitted that the loneliness of their empty house back home was slowly eating away at her, she welcomed her with open arms into her home, transforming it as much as they could to replicate what once was their shared bedroom of their childhood.
She closed her eyes and leaned back into the cushions that propped her head against the vintage rocking chair. She smiled at the memory of her parents before their demise; her father's reluctance yet acceptance of her career choice, her mother's hands covered with basil yet the fingertips never a shade of her skin colour - a testimony to a habit and a passion she had passed onto Geet.
She hoped they would be proud of all she had achieved, and all that she was yet to achieve.
A knock on the door broke her out of her reverie, and she shrugged her thoughts away to bring her back into the present. Assuming it was either Pari or Johan, she didn't give much thought to her lazy appearance as she opened the door.
"Care to join me for a walk?" he asked, an arm outstretched. Geet's eyes widened at the familiar face, and then promptly slammed the door shut on his face.
To be continued...
***
A/N: The picturesque coastal town of Javea, where the story is set.
Edited by Kalam. - 11 years ago
Cricket
Indian Mythology
75