He died thrice on the same road. The first time was when he was an earthworm happily munching away the top soil. He didn't see the road roller coming his way and was plastered on to the road that was being built. He was reborn as a dog a few years down the line. One day as he was sampling a roadkill, he saw a blinding light and a truck ran over him. As he was getting ready for afterlife, he noticed that his dog head was plastered on the same spot where he was plastered as an earthworm in his previous life. Now he was determined not to be on this road in his new life. Soon he was born as a human. He was born in another country. He didn't remember anything about the road. One day the travel bug bit him and he embarked on a trip. He reached a strange land filled with strange people. He loved the countryside. As he was walking on a piece of asphalt that used to be a road, a nearby volcano erupted and a boulder plastered him on to the road. He lay there refusing to be reborn just to be dead again on that road.
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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