The Frustration (fiction)

I remove my sunglasses to clear out the sweat dripping on my face. The shades themselves were half soaked in sweat and I could clearly sense an irritation creeping inside me. “He must be coming for me now”, I said to myself wiping off my face with a handkerchief. I hated my handkerchief being so wet.

The day clearly hadn’t started off on a good note. I found myself pressing the elevator button multiple times in frustration and then taking the stairs in helplessness. It was just another day in Bangalore, with yet another hour of daily power cuts. “He should have been here by now”, I started to wonder how addicted had we become to the small luxuries of life. The elevator was one such thing.

It was already five minutes of me being under the scorching heat. Bangalore was unusually hot today. I could have settled under the shade of the shop nearby. “But will he notice me?”, I resisted myself from the shade.

I took out my cell phone on hearing it beep. “Hello”, I said. “Be there in a minute”, out came the response, quick and short. I noticed a few droplets of sweat on my phone’s screen. I turned my gaze away in frustration and there he was, right besides me. I could see him dressed in complete white through the window. He unlocked the door. “Your destination Sir?”, he asked, while I made myself comfortable besides the driver’s seat.


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