Komal Ki Gand Me Itana Dard Kabhi Nahi Dekha

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I couldn’t take her with me, she knew she couldn’t leave her own country. We’d agreed to end our contact, to not write or phone. Now, twenty years later, I found myself wondering where she was. Wondering if she was married, if she had a family of her own. I had no family, my parents had died in a car accident over thirty years ago. I preferred the nomadic lifestyle I’d been free to live ever since. Though England was my home, I’d managed to work and travel almost every continent intermittently. I didn’t have the urge to settle. In fact, I was happier when I was living out of my backpack. A knock brought me back to the present. Opening the wooden door I stood staring at her. Zanele, the woman I’d only moments ago been thinking and wondering about stood in front of me. She didn’t look much different. A little thicker around the waist and face was about all. Her hair was still in the same style, her clothes similar. The intervening 20 years had added no wrinkles, but had enhanced her. . ?, dit Sarah avant d'?tre coup?,-? Vous! Vous m'ob?issez, on va boire et retourner travailler. ?.Julie et Sarah n'eurent pas le choix de boire lorsque le gros moustachuleur versa un whisky bas de gamme. Elles furent ?tonn?es de voir ? quelpoint elles appr?ciaient malgr? tout ce tord boyau et le buvaient avec unetelle facilit?, elles qui ne buvaient plus que de l'eau min?ral cesderniers temps, ? la place de leur grand cru stock? dans leur anciennecave ? vin. Et il leur en reversa un 2eme, puis un 3eme, et un si de suitejusqu'? finir la bouteille.-? Merde!...Hips!...je suis en peu bourr?e ?, dit Sarah.-? Filez moi une clope, j'ai envie de fumer putain... ?, dit ensuiteJulie.Le gros moustachu se marra sarcastiquement tandis que Cyndie et Chantalrevenaient de leur footing.Julie et Sarah furent surprises de constater qu'elles avaient perdu dupoids. Julie dit alors :-? H?! t'as vu ?a Sarah, j'y crois pas, putain de merde, j'ai l'impressionque ces pouffiasses d'ouvri?re de merde sont.
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The sales assistant cleared her throat and pushed a gift box onto the counter. ‘Your cookies are ready, Miss Stewart.’ Glad of the excuse to look away from Rupert’s icy smile, she fished in her purse for her credit card. ‘Thank you.’ Rupert was standing so close behind her that she could feel his breath on her ear. ‘Enjoy your cookies,’ he whispered. ‘That old fool you work for, he can’t see a good deal when he’s got one. This is business, not personal. He’d do well to remember that.’ ‘Oh please,’ Monica scoffed. ‘This isn’t the Godfather.’ ‘Because,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘if you want it personal, then I can make it personal. Charles has this idea that you two can work together, that he can be your boss. I’d hate to see him disillusioned…again.’ She spun around, suddenly furious. ‘What do you mean, again? Are you threatening me?’ But he just kept on smiling and tipped a wave to the assistant. ‘See you next week, Laura.’ Then he walked out into the wind, leaving Monica.

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