from previous--

--she  picked up  her  self  up, pulling  her  leggings  up, her  branded  court  shoes  dazzling in the  dark she  crept  carefully cautiously  towards  farid  iron factory, once  upon  a  time  it  belonged  to  her  uncle  who  was  a  good  hearted  honest  sincere  man, with a  midas  touch  whatever  he  touched  prospered , growing  fruitful , but  now  dead  and  gone  the  iron factory  was  become  a  common  shop,  what  a  large   place  it  was  , famous  in town  for  being  the  best, she  would  have  to  walk  three  four  miles  to  farids  and  give  a  missed  call, as  she  waited  he  would  pull  down the  shop  shutter  and  come  out  , both  on bike   from there  returned  home