Skanda Bharti's POV:
I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My face is ghastly pale as if I have seen a ghost coming out. The mascara is smudged. My eyes are yellowish and a bit red to the side—a perfect shade of the 6:00 PM sky. My eyes have been yellowish ever since I have known them but the redness has bothered me slightly. I almost forgot that I have rubbed my eyes quite a few times to soothe the burning. My pupils are dilated and my sclera has turned glaring crimson.
It looks like I am high on weed for weeks.
The nun would have a perfect resemblance. The scowl on the face is permanently pestered with the hot irrevocable glue gun.
My lips are trembling slightly, a keen look would be enough to catch the movements. I am glad the lipstick did not fade away. I have a habit
