Every now and then, she had to unblock her nose. The struggling sound of her breathing was the sound of thick air rubbing roughly through the tiny gaps in her nostrils. Even when the clatter and bustle of her movements echoed distinctly, the symptoms of her asthma were left uncovered. With love, how easily she relented and asked, “Aren’t you starving?”
“Yes,” I got up, slowly, moving towards her, “But, is there any water to drink now?”