Blahsphemy

Yes the day is coming to a close. With it will go another year. Like a forgotten dream. 

A stranger walked into a bar. It was full of his kind. Strangers.  

This rain is never going to fall, the old man grumbled looking at the blood red skies. It was their fourth year without rain. But the planet had abundant groundwater resources to sustain them for a couple of years more. In fact their planet was like a water filled balloon made of rock. Hard on the outside and brimming with water inside. Their predecessors had dug wells through which water was drawn to the surface. They had taken great precautions not to contaminate their resources. All the waste water was shunted over to a nearby planet called Earth and disposed off using special carriers called Cumulonimbuses.     

The light from the lift illuminated the dark corridor. Thirteenth floor, chimed a mechanical voice. Funny he thought, the building had only 12 floors.   

All the lines were taken. Ideas recycled. Roles acted out. Codes cracked. Programs debugged. There was nothing new left. The world was slowly sinking into boredom. That's when he tried to recreate the atom bomb.  

The evening was perfect. Sam landed up from office early. They cuddled upon the sofa making the most of whatever little time his hectic schedules permitted. She was making tea when the phone rang. It was Sam, and he said he was coming home now. 

When the lights dim The darkness sings For that's when  Silence comes to play