Thursday, April 3, 2014


She lay on her bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. She lay, gazing at the ceiling. The fan looked like a white disk, slicing the thin air around it. The bedsheet was moist and warm. She tossed and turned, wiping the sweat with the back of her palm. She gazed at the ceiling again, fixing her gaze on the white disk, creaking with every slice it accomplished. She was fascinated by it, except for her belief that it was useless; pointlessly slicing around. “The heat will kill me,” she thought, silently cursing the disc, its creaking noise and its uselessness.

Suddenly, everything around fell silent, creepily silent. She opened her eyes in a flash and it was pitch dark. She fumbled around, her nimble fingers trying to figure things around her. She felt like her insides were melting. Pearls of sweat were dripping down her spine, drenching the bedsheet and making it uncomfortably wet and warm. The silence was pricking her ears. The ceiling was out of her sight. She could feel the heat that her back was emitting. She sat up, the heat killing her. “I won’t wake up alive tomorrow,” she thought.

The disc whirred, startling her awake. She opened her eyes and saw the corridor lights peeking through the curtains. The light was back. She gazed at the ceiling, fascinated by the white disc that was now slicing away with all its might. She fell in love with it. She fell in love with the disc, it’s creaking noise and everything about it.

Give a person something in abundance and watch him curse it. Take it away from him, and watch him fall in love with it. Time. Teaches lessons everyday, every minute.