I wake up. The same scent linger in my nose. The scent of flowers I have been feeling for the last couple of days now. I get up, walk past the hall and open the door. The same guy with suit having bundle of flowers in his hands awaits outside my door. He doesn't seem to be pleased to see me, as always. His expressions were as though he was waiting for someone. Perhaps none for I'm the only one lives in that house. I try to ask him, 'what he is up to..? what he want..? what is that he is waiting for..?', for I see him everyday when I open my door in the morning. He stares at me for a while and walks away without uttering a word. I shake my head and head back inside. The sun is shining. A day is ahead of me to live.
This has been happening everyday. The scenery has't changed except his suit being different everyday even though the the flowers he carries are afresh.
I wake up again today. The same scent. I know he is waiting outside. I know it for certain that I didn't even want to look through peak hole in my door. I have a different plan today. The plan I had been working on. I get ready. I walk towards back of my house and get away through the back door, the door that I have been building secretly ever since I started seeing him.
The next day I wake up again. The guy seem to wait outside today too. Or he must have been there since yesterday. Let him wait. A waiting that I'm not going to answer. Perhaps that is what the answer he is looking forward to. I shake my head to drop that thought. I get up and walk midst the scent of the fresh flowers. I get ready keeping the noise level low. Walk out of the house through back door again.
It is the third day the guy outside could be waiting without seeing anyone opening the door. I wake up. Curiosity pushes me towards the door. I look through the peak hole. No sign of him. But I could feel the perfume of flowers. As fresh ever. I open the door. The flowers were laid down in front of my door, with a note. He must have forgot to sign. Or he must have thought it didn't matter. I grab the flowers, put the note in the thrash. I may wish to keep the flowers as a trophy though that wasn't why it was laid down in front of my doors.
I get ready. The sun is shining. Another day is ahead of me to live. I walk through the front door. The back door is still there. Kept secret inside the house. It might come in handy when needed. I know some people call walking through the back door as escaping. When the thought hit my mind, I smile because I would like to call it surviving.
Paul Arockiam.
This has been happening everyday. The scenery has't changed except his suit being different everyday even though the the flowers he carries are afresh.
I wake up again today. The same scent. I know he is waiting outside. I know it for certain that I didn't even want to look through peak hole in my door. I have a different plan today. The plan I had been working on. I get ready. I walk towards back of my house and get away through the back door, the door that I have been building secretly ever since I started seeing him.
The next day I wake up again. The guy seem to wait outside today too. Or he must have been there since yesterday. Let him wait. A waiting that I'm not going to answer. Perhaps that is what the answer he is looking forward to. I shake my head to drop that thought. I get up and walk midst the scent of the fresh flowers. I get ready keeping the noise level low. Walk out of the house through back door again.
It is the third day the guy outside could be waiting without seeing anyone opening the door. I wake up. Curiosity pushes me towards the door. I look through the peak hole. No sign of him. But I could feel the perfume of flowers. As fresh ever. I open the door. The flowers were laid down in front of my door, with a note. He must have forgot to sign. Or he must have thought it didn't matter. I grab the flowers, put the note in the thrash. I may wish to keep the flowers as a trophy though that wasn't why it was laid down in front of my doors.
I get ready. The sun is shining. Another day is ahead of me to live. I walk through the front door. The back door is still there. Kept secret inside the house. It might come in handy when needed. I know some people call walking through the back door as escaping. When the thought hit my mind, I smile because I would like to call it surviving.
Paul Arockiam.
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