Aunty In Bed 🔖

"Are you ever getting up?" I asked once, as a teenager.

She took a slow sip of chai, looked at me over her glasses, and smiled. aunty in bed

By 8 a.m., she'd be propped against three feather pillows, a steaming chai on the nightstand, and her old reading glasses perched halfway down her nose. The duvet was pulled up to her chin, even in summer. "The fan is trying to assassinate me," she'd insist, pointing a bony finger at the ceiling. "Are you ever getting up

The Royal Court of Blankets

"Who finished the pickle? I will not name names. But Rohan. It was Rohan." looked at me over her glasses