Shruti M.

Dhun's door clicked open like it did every day, at 7:00 A.M. The lights in the room turned on. The curtains slid open. Pappa followed, seven minutes later, with a mug of chocolate milk held between his hands, which he carefully placed on her bedside table. 

Dhun was fast asleep. And like every morning, pappa snuggled beside his nine-year-old. Dhun wiggled, her subconscious slowly fading into reality. Pappa tickled her, kissed her, tickled her, kissed her. And after about fifteen minutes of the ritual, Dhun opened her eyes and rolled out of her bed.

Pappa handed her the milk, and they both made their way into the living room as the lights in Dhun's room dimmed behind them. 

Dhun sat on the sofa, sipping milk, and watching the Big Screen. The Big Screen would normally display all the information about everyone's schedules, the working condition of all equipment in the house, other important reminders, and updates. It kept track of almost everything. It had multiple playlists and everyone's favourite programming. The morning news was on, right now...read more on NOPR