The city felt exceptionally gray today. It wasn't just the cloudy sky; rather, a thick layer of dust and mechanical monotony seemed to coat everything. Animesh sat by the window with a cup of tea, watching the crowd outside. He had returned from the office early today; his body just wasn't keeping up with the pace.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. No one was expected at this hour. When Animesh opened the door, he found a young boy standing there. In his hand was a bunch of wild flowers and an envelope.
"Are you Mr. Animesh?" the boy asked, his voice carrying a strange, simple warmth.
"Yes, I am. But who are you?"
"I'm coming from the library in the next neighborhood. An elderly lady left this letter and these flowers for you. She said that twenty years ago, you apparently 'stole' a sapling from her garden."
Animesh was stunned. Twenty years? He had spent his childhood next to a gardener's house in a small suburban town. Could someone truly still remember that tiny Bakul (Spanish Cherry) sapling after all this time?