12:09 AM
22nd September, 2020.

Twirling the pen in his fingers, he leaned into his seat. Mindlessly, he stared at the door of his room, his finger tapping on the table. Moving closer to his table, he lifted the notepad in the other hand, clicking the back of the pen on the table.

He read it once, twice, thrice ... umpteen times, but it was all the same. It meant, directed and screamed the same thing: She didn't want to go back home.

Why?

He didn't know. He failed to know.

Her reactions had angered him, dragging him off her room. He felt foolish for reacting as such. He knew he lost his only chance. Now he'd have to work from scratch, again.

Nevermind.

He was too exhausted to try again.

Leaving the pen on his table, he read the notes for the last time and then, tore them. Everything he had written, he tore and tossed into the bin. The last piece he held between his fingers and pulled out his lighter. Lighting it, he tossed the flamed piece into the pile and leaned into his seat.

Notes gone. Dreams gone. Disappointments gone.

Letting out a breath, he turned off the lights and pulled open the curtains, throwing the windows opened. Taking in the warmth of the flames, he stared outside.

It was peaceful.

Neither human nor animal spoke. It was just leaves and insects playing in the silence, allowing him to calm down.

With his arm propped under his chin, elbow resting on the window sill, he continued to stare, warm and calm.

The silence didn't last long.

His phone rang, dragging him back to his table. Accepting it, he flopped on the couch closest to the window and propped his feet up on the table. Placing his glasses to a side, he rubbed his eyes before answering, "Got them to the new place?"

"Yes sir," came a reply. "They have finished the first round of the trials."

"Good," he nodded. "Any results?"

"None, as of now."

"How long has it been?"

The person on the other mumbled something to his partners before giving him a clear reply, "Four hours or so, sir."

"Keep an eye on them. They're sure to give a reaction, sooner or later."

"On it, sir!"

His eyes fell on the flame that was dying.

"Send someone and take that girl from the hospital."

"But sir, you were the one who told us to dispose everyone above nineteen."

"Doesn't matter. Take her with you. It's an order!"

"Yes sir," came a soft sigh. "And the payment? We are almost out of money. We need to buy food for the kids."

"You'll get it by tomorrow evening. Hold on till then." He cut the call.

Tossing his phone to a side, he placed his arms behind his head. A small smile fluttered on his lips and his eyes closed.

For the last time, he replayed the memories of the night, her voice and tone, her behaviour and body language. He tried to remember it all for the last time.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the dying flame. It was small, small enough to be blown out.

Kneeling beside it, he took its life and stared at the black dirt left behind.

His notes, his dreams, his disappointments — everything was gone.

And with them, she was gone too. Her story gone with her.

Forever.

Never to be known.

* * *
❝ and your reality, someone's dream. ❞

| If you've made it this far, congratulations! |

| Go and treat yourself, get a head massage or something, and try your best in forgetting this. |