Prolong
Mumbai Central Station, 8:45 AM. The platform is buzzing.
Amaya tugged at her wheeled suitcase, muttering, “Why does my luggage always grow arms and legs when I need it least?” She tripped over a stray cable—right into Vikram, who was balancing his briefcase, coffee, and dignity.
“Ah! Watch it!” he yelped, coffee teetering dangerously.
“Sorry! Sorry! My suitcase has a mind of its own!” Amaya apologized, bending down to gather her scattered belongings.
Her small, ornately carved box rolled across the platform and landed at Vikram’s feet. Curiosity piqued, he picked it up—just as a shadowy figure sprinted past, snatching a commuter’s bag and narrowly missing him.
Amaya froze. “Wait… did you see that?”
Vikram glanced around, coffee forgotten. “If that was a bank robbery, I want a refund on my insurance.”
And that’s how chaos, comedy, and… maybe love, began.
