Welcome to Week 94 of Three Line Tales.

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three line tales week 94: old pots in a sink

photo by Scott Umstattd via Unsplash


By Neel Anil Panicker

I wake up groggy eyed; last night’s indulgences stare down at me, half mocking, half pitying, unspooling in slow motion the debauchery of soiled existences.


The passion soaked proclamations of undying love; the neatly worded trope of cast iron truths; the early morning endlessly long surreal walks along barrens beaches; the midnight wanderings into the other’s heart and soul__all these and then some more eventually turn into deathly tombstones of that eternal falsehood called first love.


It takes time to sink in; by the time reality hits, you and everything around you has turned into a flotilla of orphaned memories.


1 thought on “neelwrites/sinkingin/threelinetales/shortstory/flashfiction/17/11/2017

  1. At a certain stage, realization hits that all one needed was companionship. Everything else was am enticing prelude to reaching there.


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