The jar fell off the rack and shattered. There goes my last hope to regain sanity, thought Shef. It contained all his memories. His childhood, his love, his family, his friends... everything was slowly escaping from the jar in to thin air. He tried breathing in a few, but it didn't seem to work. The jar was his only solace during his madness. He used to extract memory after memory from his ravaged mind and store it in that jar. Now they are all gone. He screamed for help. But his padded cell stifled his screams. Outside he could hear people going about their life as usual. He kicked the walls, hoping they will come apart. He tried piecing the jar together. To his dismay, even the shattered glass pieces started melting away like ice on a hot summer day. He tried to get the nurse's attention by banging his head on the iron bars of his cell. She looked away as if he was not there. Just like the jar that shattered a few minutes back.
Looks like the fog just spared my window to the street. The street lights looked liking smokers in an alley. The cobble stones were wet from the drizzle. The street dogs were busy barking at something. A breeze just unsettled the garbage can's lid. My world hasn't changed much. Everyday I look for some sign of change. Nothing seems to change. I have grown bald. My eyesight has dimmed. My kids have grown. The window pane has gathered dust and dirt. The spiders have evolved. Some old buildings have given way to new ones. The neon signs have gone. Still nothing seem to have changed. Change they say has to come from within. But then, what can come out of an empty narrow dead end?
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