Loneliness welcomed him back like a long lost friend. He detested her company, always. He tried to shake her off at night clubs, stadiums, metro stations, malls and cinema halls. She was always waiting for him whenever he felt lonely. She seemed to enjoy his predicament. He wanted to lose her forever. The moment he was lonely, she was there by his side. Soon he started to like her company. He started to long for her in crowds, meetings and parties. Little did he know that he was becoming her. A loner.
I have to write. Those were the words that escaped the dying man's lips. He was found lying unconscious near a mountain of blank paper. His autopsy revealed over exhaustion as the reason. But what did he want to write so badly that it killed him, no one knows. The task was designated to the junior cop who was part of the investigation team. Let's call him Namura. So here we are with Namura in a room with the mountain of blank paper. He is awed as to why should there be so many papers near a dying man. He picks a sheet on the top. He studies it. It's as blank as blank papers can be. No pencil or pen has violated its virgin whiteness. Namura thinks of the white bed sheets back home. He is tired. All he wants is to crash on his bed. He feels angry about the whole situation. Here I am, staring at a blank piece of paper, wondering why someone who wanted to write so badly didn't write a single word, while the whole world is sleeping on their comfy beds. He wanted to tear the ...
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