Or, you will once I tell you my story. And that’s exactly my point. There’s no room for me here. I was born a thousand years too late, and there�...�s nothing I can do about it. It’s probably a punishment for something I did wrong in that last lifetime, that I just can’t seem to remember. They sent me here to Hell, and let me tell you, it’s a whole lot worse than the flames that licked up around my skin and consumed me when I was the sacrifice in my virginal phase. Those lifetimes a person knew. I suppose I convinced myself that I could still react quicker this way in case someone woke up and saw us standing there by the door. Only later did I realize just how ridiculous this was, and how unbelievably risky. The house was dark for the most part but the little light which emanated from the kitchen was all I needed to stare at what was possibly the most exquisite pussy I had ever seen. My head was spinning as I glared at her teenage sex, before I instinctively knelt down in front of her. They passed the blade from brother to brother, sister to sister, heads covered in soapy foam & lips bitten in sincerest regret as the master himself directed the path of the blade, shedding layers of fur in a mere handful of errant strokes, depriving each & every would-be member of that esoteric order of their respective pelts. Tears fell with random locks, wails to highest heaven as the necessary pruning occurred, each & every disciple moving through the appropriate seven stages of grieving. It was while I was sipping coffee that I knew I had to go home as soon as possible and face the problem square on. ‘When I came back home your mother was standing near the front door. She was dressed for travelling. Two suitcases were resting on the front door landing. Mithu had decided to leave. ‘Where are you going?’ I asked. ‘To Meerut. The job in the college I left when I got married is vacant once again and the principal said I was welcome to rejoin. I have accepted her offer. I am not.