It is an ear worm for sure, the doctor sounded confident. Ear worms, this guy is out of his mind. Aren't they harmless musical notes that get stuck on your mind? Well, my case was different. What got stuck was a piece of a ringtone. Something that sounded like the lovechild of a heavy metal riff and a banshee. It kept ringing and ringing till I became a sleep deprived zombie. Everything started because of that rotten room mate of yours. The junkie who had that ringtone from some progressive goth metal band. I was sleeping peacefully and then the blasted phone started ringing. It was so loud that it even impregnated my brain. Now, all I need is it to stop ringing. How do I do that? It might stop when the battery runs out. Excuse me doctor, could you please check how long my battery will last? As soon as the morphine kicks in, your battery will die. Then you can sleep peacefully. The doctor's voice echoed from somewhere up there. He looked up and saw a galaxy of halogen stars fading away fast.
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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