The stench of alcohol scavenged her senses even at the distant deserted backyard. It was nauseating for her eight-month pregnant body. She peered inside the house through the broken glass pane. Young souls lay insentient, oblivious towards the line between realism and their delusionary utopia. Some under the influence of hallucinogens, some beleaguered under the vacuity of liquor and some sniffing on fine powders, snuffing out a little life with their every breath. She stared at the packet in her hand. The white powder within glistened with every reedy ray of light suffusing through it. In the pall of the night and amidst its bleakness, her harrowing past transpired before her.

Her memories stumbled upon the dawn when her husband arrived at their doorstep, bathed in blood and with three bullets lodged in his chest. Her love for him was ardent, though she loathed his work. There were nights when she importuned him for doing something decent. But his piqued male machismo always eulogized the laidback luxury of a gangster. He was content with his guise as a drug peddler and fed her with abundance. But two months ago, life took a turn for the worse. He was killed in a gangland war and adversity gradually ambushed her life. The first month was tackled through her meagre savings and then penury struck really hard. Heavy with a child, she was not suitable for any laborious job and earning gracious bread was proving hard to come by.

A sudden sharp whistle in that sublime silence startled her and jolted her out of her trance. She looked around and found the man for whom she had come by. In the past one month, though she dithered between the right and the wrong, the dearth of cash, her ravenous stomach and the agonizing plea of a budding life inside, coerced her to wear the shoes she always reviled. She often cursed her husband as the dealer of death. But today, the irony of life brought her here for her maiden drug deal. She stood at the brink of guilt, fully aware of the powdery evil she was holding. A drop of tear rolled down her cheeks. However, as she handed over the packet in exchange for some greenbacks, her sanity did not ponder for the lives she would be destroying. It was only the motherly instinct within her, which cogitated for the lone soul she was responsible for.