I ran after her, but she was always just a little bit ahead of me. I tried to run faster, but I just couldn't catch up with her.She would occasionally...turn her head to see where I was. The look on her face gradually turned from joyous play, to evident concern. Eventually she faded into the mist and was gone.I woke up in a sweat. I was so upset that I had to get up and walk around the campsite. In vain, I tried to shake the vision from my head. What if it was a premonition? I immediately wiped. At least that's what I was lead tobelieve.I walked into the Drama Class's main room, locked the door, then into thechanging room and locked that door too. My mask of Pat was there on thewig head, padded bra and girdle were there. But the clothes she left forme didn't look right at first, but I remembered she had worn everything infront of me. I put on the padded long line bra, then the padded girdle,and finally the pantyhose. I went and took to putting on the mask of Patsface, then applied. Arpita aunty was fair and tall almost 5.6”, which in our community is excellent height. Arpita aunty was not fat or lean; she was ok especially with 2 k**s and age of 39 at that time. She had curly hair and looked updated but the moment she opened her mouth, the image of modern women fell apart.She was kind of women who never bothered about her dress exposure and specially when men around her. I guess she enjoyed men staring at her and giving and special attention. My mum use to hate her for. It made me feel... I don't know. I don't know why.Ten minutes go by before the number pops again.In damage-control mode, he retraces his steps as if seeing them through her eyes, conveying empathy for the impression those steps may have made. He soothes, a physician to a terminal patient, that he doesn't 'do that' with other women lately.She frowns - what difference should it make? - and has a feeling he won't be 'doing that' with her after this unforgivably candid moment. The screen flatlines.
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