I stepped from the litted corridor into the dark, soul-less house.
Damp, drained and tired.
I unbuttoned my jeans, and collapsed onto the floor, exhausted.
What a long night, it had been.
I sat there, unmoved.
Cold, and battered.
It was dark, and lonesome.
***
It was cold, so cold.
There, in the dark corner, 3 of them sat.
She stared at the litted end of the stick, the flickers mocked her.
She turned to the one next to her, and asked for a drag.
He passed it over, and she inhaled, deeply.
Again, and again.
Until she finished it.
Then, she breathed.
It was dark. The only light she saw, was that from the source of the dancing smoke.
So near, yet so far.
***
It was yet, another frightening evening.
The thunders taunted, like they always did.
She jumped, unsettled.
Nerves.
She was out there, in the wild. In the open, yet sheltered.
Yet, it was a quaint sense of fear.
Sheltered, yet felt she was exposed in the open.
It was dark. Out in the open.
Wham. Bam.
The only thing that litted her night, was bringing her fear.
She was alone. In that world of hers.
***
She was cold.
Shivering.
Her palms were icy.
Her feet were wet.
The sharp tickles from the falling raindrops caressed her skin.
She skipped and twirled in the drizzle, humming to the familiar tune of the chirpy song about singing in the rain.
Her pace was unstable, as of her normal clumsy self, and the floor, glazed by pool of puddles, were not making things any easily.
She sang. She skipped. She jumped. She laughed.
It was at the dark alley.
Her face was glittering as she joined the others at the table.
In the darkness, the raindrops decorated her face with sparks and shine, with the help of the dwindling night lights.
***
She sat there, not wanting to move.
Struggled to go through with the showers.
She typed, to him. The man who was once a distant strange. The man who had heard her stories, hearing the neverending tragedy, again.
A fraction of her life.
He ceased to respond. She left the room.
She was cold. Very cold.
With her freshly rinsed her, she sat down, and blasted the hair dryer, in the unlitted hall.
She didn’t bother to on the lights.
The warmth from a gadget, was the only thing that warm her tonight.
Why did she still feel so cold?
In the darkness, she broke down.
Defeated by fatigue.
Tears ran free as she buried her tear-stained face into her icy palms, looking for the last traces of solace.
In the darkness, there was warmth.
No lights.
She still feels cold.
Freezing cold.
The hairdryer howled forcefully.
The only thing that broke the silence of the dark, chilly night.
***
The shrill from the house phone disturbed the darkness.
The room wasn’t litted either.
Her warm mane draped over her shoulders, as she picked up the receiver.
His voice.
How glad. Soothing.
The litted monitor shone.
She couldn’t muster a single word.
Her voice quivering.
It must have been too cold.
Couldn’t be. The air-condition wasn’t switched on, was it?
It was her.
And her cold, cold heart.
The only sparkle in the dark room, was from the last teardrop, still hanging stubbornly, borrowing the monitor’s life for its splendor.
