Opening the email, I gasp."A woman your age knows what you need and rest assured you will get what you deserve. I’ve attached a picture. Meet me at ...he coffee shop in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”Touching up my lipstick and running a brush through my hair I rush out the door and into the car. I pull into the coffee shop parking lot and take a deep breath, exiting the car and entering the shop.“Good morning.”I stare up at the waiter, recognizing him from the picture, and gasping,. Recently I came across some stories written by a person with the name Isha Dhariwal. Well I think that the real Isha used to work with me (she is writing to ISSS with a pen name I think)so I decided to do the same and tell you an incident that happened to me 2 years back. That time I was working with a small software company in Bangalore and was recovering from my divorce and was living with my sister in Bangalore.Well let me tell you something about myself I am on the darker side with a. I wasn’t real keen on the idea of telling her, but I always tried to be straight up with her. Honesty was a biggie in our relationship.I called out, “Honey, I’m home,” as soon as I walked through the door.Megan came out of the kitchen with an arm full of smiling, gurgling, chubby cheeked Shelby. Megan suspected something as soon as she saw my face.“What happened?”“I’ve been alerted; I’m shipping out.”“Nam?” she asked.I nodded.“When?”“After the first of the year. I have two months of language. Some of the apartments were closed within and without; the shutters were only opened to admit a minute's air, showing the scared face of a footman, and immediately afterwards the window would be closed, like a gravestone falling on a sepulchre, and the neighbors would say to each other in a low voice, "Will there be another funeral to-day at the procureur's house?" Madame Danglars involuntarily shuddered at the desolate aspect of the mansion; descending from the cab, she approached the door.