The pitter patter of the steadily falling slow rain occasionally disturbs the closed 7th floor window panes of the dark drawing room, clouded with a thin sheet of mist and memories. Right below, beyond the waterlogged little garden of the slightly run down housing complex, a solitary traffic light winks lonesomely to no one in particular, in the barely busy pot-holed by-street, as dusk approaches slightly early on a usual monsoon day.
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