Drenched

Was there a point in carrying the umbrella? Her damp saree clung to her body, in a desperate attempt to avoid the pattering drops. Wet tendrils of brown black hair kissed her neck and forehead. She squinted skywards seeking the elusive sun, knowing she wouldn't find him there. Her feet, comfortably ensconced in her practical footwear, beat splashes of water in the puddles as she hurried homewards. Once again her eyes skirted the periphery for the remotest signs of an auto.

Her gaze collided with