Ashu looked at the man facing him. He had liked him before, but despised him now. It had to be done; the fellow’s faults were incorrigible. He raised his gun and fired a shot. Some splinters flew and he fainted, his hand still clutching the gun.
The next week Ashu’s family visited him at the mental asylum. Back home, the broken mirror was getting a new pane.
Grains of thought 
Lovely.
I study in New York, maybe that’s why we still dissect.
hmm….
yes I wish I could be like ashu…
oh so many times I have felt the need for a gun, lucky Ashu !
Lol….
Love & Prayers,Anu