He turned the tap and waited for the familiar whoosh of emptiness. For him this has become a ritual. It's been years since even a drop trickled down that spout. He never bothered to think why. For him it was just a ritual now. It all started on one sweltering summer day when he wanted a sip to slake his thirst. The tap was like a mirage in the hot afternoon sun. He scalded his fingers touching it. All that he wanted was a cool splash. All that came out was a warm gust of air. He fiddled with the tap again. Frustration goaded him to kick the tap. But he couldn't. Instead he became obsessed with it. He wanted to drink the first drop that comes out through that tap. When will that day be? He doesn't know. All that he knows is that the chances of water coming out of a disconnected tap is as rare as the drop of water for which he was waiting.
He couldn't keep count of the days or nights as he was always surrounded by darkness. No he wasn't blind nor did someone blindfold him. He fell in to a deep dark hole that's all. He was rushing to catch the last train home. Since it was getting late he decided to take the shortcut. Before he fell, all that he saw was a lamppost by the tracks. The impact of the fall switched off the lights in his brain. When he recovered, it was dark. He tried to feel his way around. But to his surprise all that he could feel was the darkness around him. It was as if he was encased in a thick gooey dark liquid. It held him tight. It moved with his movements. It felt as if he was part of the liquid. He floated in it. He never felt hungry or cold. In fact he felt comfortable. For the first time, he felt safe. Slowly he began to forget what he was and whom he knew. In this darkness, it was impossible to wrack his brain. Everything was slowly getting shrouded in darkness. Until that day when he ...
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