As the moon peeked through the trees on a windy night, I walked on the street that was occupied by few lazy dogs. After an unforgivingly hot day, the cool wind in the night was the testimony of the evening rain. The pleasant smell of the soil was still fresh. After a satisfying day at work, the idyllic weather felt like icing on the cake. Though the street was unusually empty, I didn’t really feel the need of seeing anyone around. The lonlier the place, the more comfortable I feel. Even as a child, I used to spend hours sitting alone, head thrown back, eyes staring at virtually nothing. Though people often find my state weird, I have never questioned my demeanor. Rather curiously, I find it quite pleasing.
As I marched the street, the mild noise of the footsteps tried its best to fill the air. And I was sure there was no one around to hear me. The dead leaves falling from the trees caressed me every now and then, as if trying to remind me that they too, exist and shouldn’t be ignored. As I reached my place, it was already quite late but then, that had been routine for quite some time. Waking up late, going to work and then coming back around two in the night. The routine didn’t really allow me to get glimpses of sunrise but sleeping till late in the day was a luxury in itself. Watching sunrises and sunsets has never really been on my priority list.
My arrival at my place was greeted by a rather tense silence. Though I often find silence calming, that very moment felt burdensome. I couldn’t put my finger on it but something just didn’t feel right. I stared at my room. Apparently, the room stared back at me. The night passed with intermittent sleep and when I eventually woke up in the morning, the neighbor passed on the information that a guy from the neighborhood had hung himself last night, and the reason behind it was yet to be discovered. I found myself asking if any reason was enough for the act. I am still looking for the answer.
