Q Quests the Quilt

Posted on the 19 April 2014 by Rajrupa @irajrupa
          I had a quilt. My granny had made it. A colourful patch worked one. It was soft warm and very cosy. I always wore it when I slept. But then on a fateful day someone else discovered it. S had come to my room to study and I, by a mistake I would regret forever, let her sleep on my bed under my quilt when she felt tired.   The next thing I knew is that I almost never found my quilt in my room. Being a big mouth as she was (literally!) she had (only to appreciate as she would have me believe) talked about how comfortable my quilt was to what seemed the entire population. And she even went an extra mile urging people that they should try it when they had any difficulty falling asleep. Because apparently, according to her, this was the reason why I never had any difficulty sleeping. Even with so much caffeine in my system.   And then began my quilt quest. A name S gave to my endless search for my quilt. We never locked our doors. But I seriously started to consider this. Every time I came back from my evening stroll my quilt was inevitably missing. And I would go round each room looking for it.   Some days were lucky when I found it in a neighbouring room, some other day the furthest corner.    On top of that I had a problem. I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea that almost every other girl in the hostel has slept under my quilt at least once. So I planned to take it back home and bring back another less comfortable quilt.   On Saturday just before I started for my home I went quilt hunting – one last time. None of the room had it. After 30 minutes of searching high and low I found it on the roof, wrapped around S. She said she was hiding because she knew I was planning to take it back and she was not ready to part with it.   “Okay you have it. But don’t bring it back in my room ever again. I saw R carrying to the loo that day.” I said.   “Eeek!” she jumped and threw it, “why didn’t you tell me? Yuck who does it?”   I quickly picked it up from the floor and started to sprint downstairs. At the foot of the stairs I called out, “Because I was lying!”
Love,

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