The Central Library at BOMBAY UNIVERSITY is a cathedral of silence— or at least, it’s supposed to be. To me, it’s a sanctuary where the smell of old paper and the hum of the air conditioner create the perfect environment for deep work. I had an assignment due the day after tomorrow, and I intended to finish it today.
Naturally, Diksha came along. Diksha and academics have a very distant relationship; she usually only reconciles with her textbooks the night before an exam. But her habit of trailing behind me like a shadow meant she was currently slumped in the chair opposite mine, staring at a blank page with a tragic expression.
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