Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Sale on Soul

Another Sunday to himself. Morning, or what was left of it, reminded him of nothing. It normally felt good. An empty mind on a Sunday was a good place to build an appetite. So much he'd be able to catch up on and he knew nothing of that sort was to happen. He'd usually while away the day until he'd feel those pangs of guilt in the evening.

The watch, from under his pillow was the only way he'd know what time it was. Grey as they came, January was making its presence felt this morning. He knew it was all cloudy and cold outside, and that was because of the two blankets that were keeping him warm. The warmth that had kept him from getting out. He'd fought the urge till now.

Half an hour later, he was sitting down for breakfast. Toast with lots of butter and a tad of marmalade. Downed with some hot, milky sweet tea. Ignoring the empty bottles of beer on the table. The stale smell of cigarettes too were ignored. He'd come to that later. The opened windows and hopefully, cross ventilation would help for now.

The bottles went into the crate, the crate into the garage. The emptied and washed ashtrays lay face down, washed and dried next to the sink. His hands and feet got the work done. His mind still had to get back from last night. He usually forgot easily. It was convenient. But not this time.

He'd been the kind who could absorb anything. Pain, the physical type especially was his favourite. He hadn't know of any other kind. He'd conveniently kept himself immune from that. He shrugged it off with ease. Dealing with people was easy. The lesser attention he'd have to pay, the better. He marvelled at his own apathy. It protected him like a force field.

But not last night. For the first time he'd come to know about one small part of a different kind of pain. She'd laughed that laugh all evening. And then he'd made her cry.

He walked up and found the door to the room was still closed. He thought she'd have left. He returned to the kitchen and began preparing another breakfast. He turned up the radio so she'd notice he was up.


Preethi said...

Mush - no. Dark, brooding and severe - yes.
How does one follow your blog?

tumunathan said...

Preethi, there must be a follow button somewhere on top.
Hmmmm dark, brooding and severe.

Preethi said...

HA! Following.