He was standing there near the bridge. I knew, being a man of high strata, he would not follow me in to the slum.I went inside my hut. My six year old...daughter was sleeping still. I came out. My eyes strayed towards the bridge. The man who followed me was nowhere around. Then with a sigh of relief, I stuck on to my morning routines.I came down and stepped on the road. Brahma-kumaries, gents and ladies in white robes, had already started their morning walk around the lake. I walked north, took a. It was a small town populated by smaller minds.Marie loved to write fiction, especially erotic fiction. She had hundreds of erotic stories on her tablet, which had been stolen five months ago. Whoever stole it had edited some of the racier stories so they appeared to be diary entries. One day she was a popular cheerleader, who all the boys wanted to date and all the girls envied. Then the faux diaries got posted all over social media sites. Now she was an outcast. No parent would let their. More

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