An Unrestored Woman
“It’d been three days since Abheet Singh’s death. His wife had already been informed, but it was required that the head constable make an official report to the family of the deceased. Jenkins took a sip of his tea. He looked out into the main room of the police station. It was empty; the subinspectors were out questioning the villagers. A pall of heat hung over the room, the walls dripped morosely. The fan too seemed wilted in the heat, ticking off the mournful seconds like a metronome. He watc...hed it with interest, wondering what she would be like. He guessed she would most likely be silent, weeping, a bit unattractive; these village women aged prematurely from working in the fields all day. He hardly knew what to say to her, his own eyes warmed with tears at the thought of Abheet Singh; he looked down at his wrist instinctively.
But it was peculiar: in the short time that Jenkins had held the post of head constable, with Abheet Singh as his subordinate, he’d not so much as mentioned his wife.MoreLess
But it was peculiar: in the short time that Jenkins had held the post of head constable, with Abheet Singh as his subordinate, he’d not so much as mentioned his wife.MoreLess
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