Short Story: A Witness, Unwilling

In this short story, Manasi Gyawali explores ordinary life disrupted by brutality, human vulnerability, and the tension between action and inaction.

Today was Wednesday, but Manas didn’t know. He lay on his bed, staring blankly at the grey ceiling. He counted the twelfth blotch of incompetence—a small, slightly darker smear against the uniform grey. With this victory, he let out a heavy sigh. 

His eyes darted around the room, searching for something insignificant to occupy his mind. But the rose-colored note Arya, his ex, had given him just a week ago, lay open, staring back at him. She had come to check on him. She had told him that her father insisted she marry someone else and had swiftly slid that note through the crack beneath the door. 

He rolled onto his back and groaned. He shut his eyes, wanting to keep his thoughts at bay, but Madan—his landlord with that crooked smile and browned teeth—invaded his mind. The thought crawled under his skin, forcing him upright.

“Let’s go on a jog,” he said, determined despite the hesitation lurking beneath his voice.