Blahsphemy

He used to let me light his cigars. He used to say he liked the way I flicked the lighter open. Tonight was also no different, as the warm glow spread at the tip of his cigar he muttered, make sure you light my pyre as well with the same ease. 

The tongues were eagerly waiting. They were deprived of their entertainment for years. Now that he had come back with a new bride, they were eager to wag at the nearest opportunity. And today, seemed like the day. For a muffled scream escaped the closed doors of his room. 

There is no use for that brain, let's disconnect it. “I heard that”, screamed the brain. “I used to make this darn body move and behave like others. Now just because it doesn't move, you can't fire me. I still can do wonders, you know? Wait, why are you bringing that drill close to my skull?”  

No I am not a cockroach, screamed the kid much to the chagrin of the nurses. They had found him under a bed in an abandoned building. He had a thick exoskeleton of dirt and pretty much ate everything that came his way. No one knew he could talk until the doctor playfully referred to him as little cockroach. The word just snapped him out of his verbal stupor and he made sure that no one called him a cockroach ever after.   

When was the last time you wrote to yourself? The question burned like a slow fuse in his mind. The blank sheets ruffled in the slow breeze from the ceiling fan. The day was just beginning to stir from a rainy night's slumber. His coffee was going cold fast, just like his heart. Today, he said aloud, I will write a note to myself. The wind chimes on his balcony door laughed. He walked past them and stepped out of his 13th floor apartment into thin air. While gravity was furiously dragging him he made a mental note. It said, hello stranger, here ends our journey.  

Imaginary conversations that stretch throughout the day. Teary farewells that linger on forever. Thunder rumbling in the distance.  Everything is just fine. When you are all alone.   

There were a few things missing from his day. He didn't know what. He was like a boat with no captain. Just floating along without any direction.

He sat up from his death bed and asked for a cigar. It would've been the most natural thing on earth had he not been pronounced dead. For the bystanders and the sorrowing family, it was a bit too much to take. They never saw this coming. His sons had amiably arrived at a decision as to who will have what. His widow had decided to go on a long pilgrimage he would've never given permission for. His friends had decided to visit their favorite bar on the way back after his funeral. But now everything changed, and he was the culprit.