By Neel Anil Panicker
Missing are the regular sight of sneaker clad early morning joggers hitting the circular track that abutted what used to be downtown for the 50 odd denizens of Elder Citizens’ Abode, the self contained condomeniuum that is home to the ‘young at heart’ souls who hoped to soak in the infinite peace they had longed and strived for all their lives.
“This bloody pandemic…the numbers keep thinning every single day.”
Septuagenarian Parminder looked at his bench colleague Aravind, and nodded his head.
The two, then looking forlornly at the empty seat beside them, wondered whose turn it would be next.
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