Roadkill

There was something familiar in his eyes - I have seen that look before, in another. Eyes that do not realise how hard and long they have been looking. Eyes that cannot help themselves.

He would come by to talk about work, but his eyes always gave him away. Some nights ago, in the midst of yet another star-gazing session on the pretext of work, I started to wonder about the "deer in headlights" syndrome. I suppose what I did next (in a somewhat detached manner) was the equivalent of "high-beaming" - a combination of widening my eyes and smiling with them. As the veil slipped from around his helpless eyes, he forgot what he was going to say next, while I continued to hold on to his eyes, and face, in increasing bemusement. A while later, he had to break eye contact, dropping his head back, searching for the forgotten words. Heh. Heh. Heh.

Now, that was fun.


Born on the Day of Fire

These days, I often feel like I am burning up from inside.

I wonder what will be left when the flames finally die.