Chapter 11Forlorn! Ike very wordis like a bell
To toil me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.”
—’Ode to the Nightingale. ‘By John Keats.
Priyam looked at her brother as he sat there on the swing. It had been more than five minutes since she had come out, but Abhi was yet to become conscious of her presence. His eyes were turned up, gazing at the sky, unmoving, though perhaps looking at a lot more than the insensate piece of cloud they were pretending to observe. His face was set in the rigidity of concentration as he tried to settle something, something that refused to quiet down and in an attempt to force its way out, made breathing difficult for him.
Six whole weeks had passed since the encounter with the chain
