Seven minutes, he gasped. The timer was ticking on. He carefully studied the wires. If he pulls the wrong one, his world will go boom. The red wire mocked him. The green invited him. The blue one was indifferent. The yellow mocked him. The violet one threatened him. The indigo one confused him. He looked at the clock again. Three minutes. Now it didn't matter whether he pulled the right one or not. The bomb was destined to blow him and everyone around him to smithereens. One more minute to go his brain screamed. He looked at them again. Red, green, yellow, blue, violet and indigo. Something is missing, he thought. Then it struck him like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He pulled the tiny orange wire that was hidden in the tangle. The clock stopped. The sun shone. Birds chirped. He felt as of he was born again.
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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