You enter and your soul evaporate from your body, the keys slip out of your hand. Headache pays rent on your mind and a serious confusion plays a familiar symphony on the background. Bodies lay in awkward positions. You make out dear Kimberly’s frail body, her face hidden behind the cushion, her legs sprawled like she was raped but she wasn’t, it’s worst.
I know you would think I am stupid, a fool or whatever foul name your minds evaporates. But consider if Christmas hadn’t fallen on a Tuesday?. Is not my fault if Sunday crept into Tuesday without its permission.
To our Bookmarkers, who tuck us safely in their net-pockets just to get home and savour us –selfishly. We hold you dearly too.
