English, asked by lakshyalov06, 9 months ago

neelis was returning from his friend's house non his new cycle.He stops at a tea stall to have a cup of tea. as he sips his tea ,he was surprised to see a boy of his age desperately trying to steal his cycle...........
develop a story in 150-200 words with illustration from the given prompt

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Answered by Anonymous
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Answer:

The big man at the end of the bar is sweating. He holds his head low over his

double Scotch, but every few minutes he glances up and out, behind him,

towards the door. A fine sheen of perspiration glistens under the strip-lights.

He lets out a long, shaky breath, disguised as a sigh, and turns back to his

drink.

‘Hey. Excuse me?’

I look up from polishing glasses.

‘Can I get another one here?’

I want to tell him it’s really not a good idea, it won’t help, it might even put

him over the limit. But he’s a big guy and it’s fifteen minutes till closing time

and, according to company guidelines, I have no reason to tell him no, so I

walk over, take his glass and hold it up to the optic. He nods at the bottle.

‘Double,’ he says, and slides a fat hand down his damp face.

‘That’ll be seven pounds twenty, please.’

It’s a quarter to eleven on a Tuesday night and the Shamrock and Clover,

East City Airport’s Irish-themed pub, which is as Irish as Mahatma Gandhi, is

winding down for the night. The bar closes ten minutes after the last plane

takes off, and right now it’s just me, an intense young man with a laptop, the

cackling women at table two and the man nursing a double Jameson’s waiting

for either the SC107 to Stockholm or the DB224 to Munich – the latter has

been delayed for forty minutes.

I’ve been on since midday, as Carly has a stomach-ache and went home. I

don’t mind. I never mind staying late. Humming softly to Celtic Pipes of the

Emerald Isle, Vol. III, I walk over and collect the glasses from the two

women, who are peering intently at some video footage on a phone. They

laugh the easy laugh of the well lubricated.

‘My granddaughter. Five days old,’says the blonde woman, as I reach over

the table for her glass.

‘Lovely.’ I smile. All babies look like currant buns to me.

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