Many years later we are sitting under the same roof. I made two cups of coffee so that conversations don't get awkward. We are at two ends of the room, I am on a couch beside the window, she is preparing for her competitive exams with scattered blank papers, an overburdened, cute, old bear pencil pouch, her favourite pens that she'd eventually use after trying out some of the new ones that she had bought, piles of blank notebooks and so many books. The favourites never change. Whether stationery sets or people, even from far apart. I very consciously sip my coffee, so that I don't make any unnecessary sounds, and look at the moon. We had the best of days together and today after many years and we are sitting under the same roof. "Are you still looking for jobs?", she says. The silence had to break, or else the awkwardness would have gotten on our nerves. "No. I'm taking a year off from everything. And writing of course." "Oh yes, the year you