Madhav tried to regain control over his breathing. His laptop lay open on the floor. He could not remember falling asleep. Empty glasses and the remnants of a joint were scattered on the table.

He cringed as his phone rang shrilly. ‘Meera calling!’ the screen announced.

‘Maddy baby,’ she said, in what she apparently thought was a cute voice.

‘Morning,’ he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

‘Baby, why are you talking to me like this early in the morning?’ she whined in the same tone.

‘How should I talk then?’ he asked, scratching his balls.

‘At least say something sweet, na,’ she implored. ‘You haven’t talked to me properly since we went for that stupid workshop.’

‘Meera, grow up! And that workshop was not stupid.’ He looked around for his spectacles.

He saw drops of blood on the white marble floor. Madhav told Meera he’d call her back.

‘No, don’t go. Please talk to me. You never give me the time of day any more,’ Meera whined. She had been with Madhav for five months now. She had seen him in all kinds of moods and yet couldn’t figure him out. She knew she wasn’t allowed any glimpse into his true feelings.

Madhav disconnected the call while she was still talking. He bent over and touched the blood. The drops seemed to trail across the room, all the way to the terrace door. He slowly walked towards the door and his phone rang. It was Meera again. He ignored the call. An uneasiness crept up through him. He slowly opened the door to see a fog obscuring his view of the terrace. The air was cold and heavy.

He saw a dead rat lying on the doormat. It had been stabbed with a wooden pencil. It was his. Bile rose in his throat, but he somehow managed to resist throwing up. Using the pencil, he picked up the rat and threw it over the terrace railing. Returning to his bed, he tried to get rid of the grotesque image from his mind in vain—who the hell had stabbed the rat? He shivered at the possibility.

In an effort to distract himself, he logged on to Facebook to check out Radhika’s profile. He saw a few candid photographs that she’d uploaded. He missed her presence. He then checked her relationship status which stated she was single. Madhav smiled.

On reading further, he found that she had studied psychology at Delhi University and then done her masters and doctorate in clinical social work from London. She had other degrees to her credit as well. What he wanted to know was her age; her birthday wasn’t mentioned on her profile.

As he scrolled down her friends’ list, he exclaimed, ‘Over three thousand friends!’ He sent her a friend request and immediately changed his profile photo to one in which he looked more contemplative. He updated his profile and sighed.

Much too impatient to even wait for her to accept, he sent her a message. ‘I am not feeling well, doctor. I need your advice.’ He attached a winky face emoji.