Message / Writing Practice

It was a steamy summer night, all of the tiredness oozed out of his skin as he lay on his bed, sheets wet with sweat. Not an ideal weather for a good sleep but there’s no choice either. When your mind says shut it, you just shut it.

His eyes closed into blackness as he tried hard not to pay attention to the rusty fan squeaking as it went round and round with an agility rivalling that of a snail. Air flow was minimal, thoughts abysmal and work incomplete, he struggled hard to sleep, tossing on what he called his bed. It was just a big mat with a torn mattress on it. A fair amount of coir sneaked out of it here and there which he tried hard to avoid but failed anyway.

The black inside his eyes turned yellow, then red.

An hour passed, his buzzing phone and glaring screen caused flood in his eyes. Partially blurred, he could read the message. It’s her.

Please don’t hate me.”

He let out an awfully loud yawn and replied,

You’re not worth it.”

The coir didn’t prick him anymore, the squeaking went mute and the hot summer night in his mattress seemed nothing less than Paradise.

Good night

He said to himself and resumed snoring.

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