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The Old Lady sank wearily into her cracked leather armchair and shifted around to get comfortable with the lumps. With a sigh, she looked around at her world. For two years, she had been restricted
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The Door Nikita Mehta 9L Eng Short story Mr.Blond The Old Lady sank wearily into her cracked leather armchair and shifted around to get comfortable with the lumps. With a sigh, she looked around at her world. For two years, she had been restricted from living upstairs because of rheumatism. And she often wondered how much dust had accumulated in her once proud and loved house. Now she gazed around at the things that filled her life. There was the old mantle piece above the fire on which lived photographs of her family all now departed. One was of a young woman with a gentle, smiling face, her eldest daughter who now lived in Australia. She was expecting a baby but the old lady knew she would never see the child because she was too old to make the journey. The second picture was of an older looking woman with...
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