Kartik was having the time of his life. The waterfall was surreal.
As night drew close, he reached the small cottage. Tired, he immediately fell asleep.
The ‘tap tap’ sounds woke him up at an unearthly hour.
The next day, relishing his morning tea, he asked the manager, “Who was typing on a typewriter yesterday night?”
“Oh, don’t worry. A writer once stayed in that room. He was working on a novel, but one day he passed away”.
Kartik knew aspiring writers were given enough lemons in their writing journey, but never did he know they persevered till afterlife.