Night by Kushal Poddar

Even the nextdoor neonate begins crying and howling. I try to soothe my daughter, rock her in my arms, and tell my wife, “Perhaps some shadow, spirit, soul passed over the houses of the neighborhood. The babies can feel. That’s why they cry together.”

My wife says, “Very funny. Scray too. You should write about this.”

“I am writing this.” I sigh.

I turn my head, and there is no one else in the room or the house. Only the neighbour’s son cries on and on.

Whispering asks around, “Have you seen a baby coffin?”

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