The sun went down after a sluggish preformance. The old beggar at the corner of the road pulled the ends of his ragged shawl around himself...
The lawns were done up beautifully. Flowers hung from the main gate. Tiny lightbulbs glowed prettily between the bushes. The party started slightly late. The guests trooped in in twos and threes. All of them were dressed up for the occasion. The woollens were out in full glory. Silk shawls, cashmere coats, leather jackets could be seen everywhere. Faux-fur was also spotted. The warmth and the cheer was infectious. There was laughter all around. Piping hot kebabs were served on fine china. A Kashmiri chef brewed pots of kahva. Guests lined up to fill their glasses with the pink concoction. As the cold intensified and dew began to fall, a bonfire was started. People huddled around it to warm themselves. It rarely got this cold in the city. And everyone was determined to make the most of the chilly night...
When the fog lifted the following morning, the old beggar was dead.
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