I’ve  got to get out of here, I’ve got to get out of here.  It was a haunting voice coming from the deep abyss.  I didn’t know why and where it was coming from, but it grew louder every minute. There was nothing else I could do, but listen to the voice. That is when I made up my mind.

The digital clock on the side table showed 2:10. That Amsterdam bound KLM flight should be normally leaving in another two hours. I sprung up from bed. Washed my face in a hurry. Found my passport. Took my credit cards and whatever cash we had tucked under the linen in the drawer, threw a few things in my duffle bag, called a cab, and split in hurry before Robert returned from the store. And this was the only seat I could find.’.


The new dawn greets the descending plane and the jetway slowly extends its welcoming arm towards yet one more arriving big bird at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport. There is not much I could say, except: ‘Good luck to you my friend!’ To that I see a slight smile cross her lips.  ‘Dank u vel,’ she says and then picks up her purse and throws Tot ziens at me before darting  out of there.

She is back home:).

© Haresh Shah 2013

Illustration: Jordan Rutherford

Next Friday, March 1, 2013


Not that we were ever bosom buddies, but it just so happened that Donna lived in Munich at the same time as I did and for some months was a part of my close circle of friends. She would hang out with us, we would go out for dinner and be a part of her small fandom when she did her gigs at one of the Munich’s night spots.

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