There is no sleep in the eyes. It was past midnight when Hussain came to put the body on the bed while walking around the house. Gori Tarti is in death-sleep.
The long night of Hemant, nothing visible except a thick blanket of mist favoring the sight. In this night of intense silence, a few houses floated from Bahudar, except for the indistinct barking of foxes, as if they were standing in front.
Hossain opened the window next to the bed. As soon as the window was opened, the icy wind rushed into the room and made his chest shiver. It's dark outside. Gazing into that darkness brings back sight so dense and thick is its covering.
Hussain closed the window and sat on the seat. He has no sleep in his eyes. Hussain almost fainted from the joy of what is going to happen tomorrow.
This time it seems that something will happen. He got a call from a famous weekly newspaper of Dhaka city. If work is found in such a place, the curse of unemployment for a long time will depart from Hossain's life.
And apart from that, working in the media is also Hossain's cherished happiness. The combination of happiness and ability did not happen much in Hossain's life.
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